Bleeding Clown
by parselslyth
Summary: Harry receives a diary from Dumbledore but when he writes in it, he receives an unexpected response. Who is this correspondent? Abused!Harry rescued from Dursleys, Mentor!Snape. Warnings: swearing, self harm, drug abuse, references to child abuse and rape
1. White, no sugar

**Disclaimer: **No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters; I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary: **Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore and when he writes in it he receives an unexpected response. His correspondent learns of Harry's less than suitable living conditions and an unlikely bond is formed. Abused!Harry, DrugAddict!Harry.

**Warnings: **Swearing, drug abuse, references to child abuse, references to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

* * *

**June 23****rd**** - 11.06pm**

_Leave me dreaming on the bed, see you right back here tomorrow, for the next round.  
Keep this scene inside your head, as the bruises turn to yellow, and the swelling goes down.  
__And if you're ever around, in the city or the suburbs, of this town,  
__Be sure to come around, I'll be wallowing in sorrow, wearing a frown, like Pierrot the clown._

Thanks for the diary Dumbledore. You're a champ. It's just what I need. It's like Tom Riddle all over again. A sword would be of more use to me now though. Or better yet, a ticket out of this hell-hole. But my welfare doesn't mean shit to you, does it? As long as I am around to be a pawn in your slightly deadly game of chess, then who cares what happens in the meantime, right? Don't worry Dumbles, I have intention of killing off old Voldie for you, but we both know I'll fall with him. My life doesn't matter though. All for the greater good of course.

_Saw you crashing 'round the bay, never seen you act so shallow, or look so brown.  
Remembered all the things you'd say, how your promises rang hollow, as you threw me to the ground.  
__And if you're ever around, in the backstreets or the alleys, of this town,  
Be sure to come around, I'll be wallowing in pity, wearing a frown, like Pierrot the clown._

What a joke. I'm sick of this shit. So much for blood-fucking-protection. Fuck you and your 'good intentions' Dumbledore. Your blood protection won't mean shit when my own _family_ kills me. I know that you know what goes on in this god-forsaken place. I know that you know what he does to me. It builds character, right? Makes me strong enough to kill. I don't want to kill. But it's okay, I've come to terms with it. I have to kill. Can't wait.

_When I dream, I dream if your lips,  
When I dream, I dream of your kiss,  
When I dream, I dream of your fists,  
Your fists,  
Your fists..._

You should send one of your aurors to check on me now Dumbledore. Preferably one trained extensively in the healing arts. Or perhaps Moody, at least he would be more than willing to knock off my loving family. Not Remus though, if he found out what happens here… Gods, he would hate me. He can never know how filthy and broken I really am. Send Tonks, or Kingsley, I'd even welcome Snape right now. I'm sick of this humiliation and violation every fucking day. It's getting tiresome.

_Leave me bleeding on the bed, see you right back here tomorrow, for the next round.  
Keep this scene inside your head, as the bruises turn to yellow, and the swelling goes down._

This muggle-drug is the only thing keeping me sane right now, and my sanity is probably questionable. I don't know what I'll do at the end of the summer. How will I ever cope at Hogwarts without shooting up every few hours? It's only been about half a day since my last hit and I'm already craving the high. I'll never sleep tonight without another hit. Unless I'm unconscious by nightfall - which is actually quite probable - I'm sure you could guess why Dumbles. Merlin I hate this place.

_And if you're ever around, in the city or the suburbs, of this town,  
__Be sure to come around, I'll be wallowing in sorrow, wearing a frown, like Pierrot the clown,  
Pierrot the clown,  
Pierrot the clown,  
Pierrot the clown,  
Pierrot the clown._

* * *

**June 24****th**** – 10.12am**

I should have been much more suspicious when the headmaster gave me this diary; he's always meddling in the affairs of others. Had I known that this was, in fact, a two-way diary linked to none other than our resident Golden Boy, I'm sure it would have been thrown back in his face without delay. Needless to say I had never written in here, so to see it chiming and flashing on my desk was rather absurd.

Not a bad entry Mr. Potter, however if you tone down the angst and vulgar language you may be surprised with the revelation that you can still get your point across. But then again, perhaps I am holding you in much higher revere than you may amount to. Prove me wrong Mr. Potter.

* * *

**June 24****th**** – 6.47pm**

I am as surprised as you are to see my new diary (curtsey of headmaster Dumbledore) chiming and flashing on my bedside table. It find it rather perplexing however, that you were so quickly able to assess myself and conclude that I am indeed Harry Potter, while I am still at a loss as to your identity. As you can see, I have stepped up the language in order to prove you wrong, however keeping this up for an entire entry could be tiring. I will do my best.

Taking into account the implications of my diary being not so private, I will refrain from writing my innermost thoughts and feelings onto these pages. If your chosen title for me; 'Golden Boy', is anything to go by - I think you are not a person I am particularly close with. If I guess who you are, will you inform me? I have a few suspicions.

By the way, the Tom Riddle mention in the previous entry - that was purely coincidental, I did not actually expect this to be a two-way diary. Knowing what happened to Ginny I should be more careful, however I have found that I really don't care. Besides, I doubt the aforementioned headmaster would give me a diary linked to none other than his archenemy, unless he was unaware. I may just be a pawn in this war, but I'm his most powerful pawn, he wouldn't let Voldie feed off me.

Your own entry was rather disappointing in length, only a few lines, surely you could write a little more than that? But then again you weren't planning to write anything at all so I suppose it was more than expected. How is my level of vocabulary? Up to your standards? I have a few questions on your identity as you have me rather intrigued. I do not expect that you will answer them all, but a few clues would be appreciated:

1. What is you gender? I would guess male.  
2. Do you go to my school, Hogwarts? I assume you do due to your chosen title for Albus Dumbledore.  
3. How do you take you coffee? My guess is black with no sugar.  
4. Are you afraid to say the dark lord's name out loud? I doubt this one.  
5. Who are you? Wishful thinking that you may put me out of my misery?

For now, I bid you farewell. I have no idea when my next reply shall be as I am sure I will be tied up very shortly. Please do reply to me though; anything to keep my mind of the present. Only 10 weeks until school is back…

* * *

**June 24****th**** - 10.20pm**

Mr. Potter, although there was a vast improvement evident in your vocabulary, it still requires much improvement. For example, you word choice is poor at best. 'Nemesis' is a much better word than 'enemy', and 'considering' should have been used in place of 'taking into account'. It is, however, more than I had hoped for from the likes of you.

I will attempt to decipher the meaning of your jumbled mess and answer your questions.

If you do happen to, by chance, deduce my identity then I may, perhaps inform you of such a fact. As much as the headmaster is firmly entrenched on the side of the light, you should never trust anyone. For fear of sounding like Alastor, you must always be cautious – constant vigilance. As to the length of my entry; I shall write as much as I see fit, do not question me on it - you're lucky I'm even writing at all.

1. You are correct in your assumption.  
2. I suppose you could say that.  
3. I prefer tea to coffee, however on occasion I take it white with no sugar.  
4. Fear does not factor into the equation.  
5. Do not waste your ink.

As I conceded to answer your questions, now I require that you answer a few of mine. As I was, you may be vague about your answers if you do not wish to answer them, however the depth of my answers will reflect your own. Unlike you, I will not speculate on the answers, I will simply wait on your response.

1. Why do you take muggle drugs?  
2. Do you think you will triumph over the dark lord?  
3. Excluding quidditch injuries, have you ever broken a bone?

That is all for now; three simple questions. If you lie in your answers Mr. Potter, I will simply lie in my own.

* * *

**June 25****th**** – 3.58am**

Interesting answers, very interesting. I am quite sure that I have narrowed down my suspicions to a select few, however I am still unsure. As per your request I shall answer your questions.

1. Because I can, and because it feels good.  
2. I do not see how a teenager can win against a deranged, power-hungry psycho.  
3. Yes.

Your questions were slightly odd. Why would you care about broken bones? And nobody has ever asked me if I think I will win, they just expect me to. The first question was rather predictable though, I can understand that a wizard would not understand my _need_ for drugs.

If you can't read my writing, it's because I'm shaking really badly right now. I ran out of heroin yesterday and won't be able to get any more until later today. I last shot up at about lunchtime, so it's been almost sixteen hours. My stomach is cramping and my bones hurt. FUCCCKKK. This sucks. I can't write like this. I have three quick questions before I curl up and try not to think about the fucking drug.

1. What house are you in at school?  
2. Have you ever done muggle drugs?  
3. What is your opinion of half-bloods?

Merlin, this is worse than hell. What the fuck am I going to do when I have to go back to Hogwarts? I won't survive. That is, if I survive the summer in this house anyway. Fuck I need a shot. I need something, anything, I'm so cold, but I'm burning up. This is worse than the cruciatus curse.

* * *

**A/N:** The song in the first entry is being written by Harry, he is using the lyrics to express his feelings. The song is not mine; it is 'Pierrot The Clown' by the band Placebo.


	2. A natural occlumens

**Disclaimer: **No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters; I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary: **Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore and when he writes in it he receives an unexpected response. His correspondent learns of Harry's less than suitable living conditions and an unlikely bond is formed. Abused!Harry, DrugAddict!Harry.

**Warnings: **Swearing, drug abuse, references to child abuse, references to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

* * *

…_Fuck I need a shot. I need something, anything, I'm so cold, but I'm burning up. This is worse than the cruciatus curse._

**June 25****th**** – 7.00am**

Mr. Potter, you are a disappointment. Your level of vocabulary was deplorable and the profanities were disturbing to read. If you cannot control your language, then please refrain from writing to me in the future, it is despicable.

My reasons for asking those questions are hardly your concern - I do not ask about the nature of your own questions. There is rationale behind asking each and every one of my questions and you will be made aware of this when I see fit, or you may never be made aware, it really is my prerogative.

As to your handwriting, never have I seen it so ghastly. I could barely interpret much of the content of your entry due to the appalling penmanship. Muggleborns who've never held a quill in their lives could write more neatly than your chaos. I was, after much consideration, able to comprehend the mess that you wrote and will answer your questions for you.

1. Slytherin.  
2. Never.  
3. I believe that all beings who possess magical talents have as much right to be here as the next; muggleborns, half-bloods and purebloods alike.

As for your withdrawals, I offer you no sympathy. Were your pain not self-induced then I would perhaps be more compassionate, however you have brought this upon yourself with your own stupidity. You deserve any pain you are feeling. I highly advise that wean yourself from the heroin before returning to school after the summer vacation - you wouldn't last a day inside the castle walls without being found out at the rate you're going. Besides, what would stop _me_ from telling the world? Whatever would the headmaster say? I do believe he would be most disappointed in his _precious_ Golden Boy.

I am curious however, that in your answer you state that to take drugs feels good yet your writing from earlier disproves this. Do the cravings feel good Mr. Potter? Do you enjoy the knowledge that you cannot go for more than a handful of hours without your body screaming at you for the drug? Do you like being at the mercy of a substance? Here are my questions for you:

1. When have you ever experienced the cruciatus curse?  
2. What is your most precious possession?  
3. What is your least favourite class at Hogwarts?

I expect answers that are slightly more descriptive than your last, albeit I could be expecting too much from one as simple-minded as yourself. Clean yourself up Mr. Potter, end your reliance on the drugs, it is most unbecoming.

* * *

**June 25****th**** – 10.03pm**

I must apologise for my inappropriate use of vulgar language in my previous entry; it was atrocious. Your answers however, captured my interest. Being a Slytherin who accepts all magical beings? Well that cuts out the majority of the Slytherin population.

From someone who does not hold me in particularly high esteem, I did not expect sympathy from anyway. Nor do I want it. I have never received it in the past and certainly don't need it now. And I _did_ plan to curb my addiction before returning to school after the summer, but last night and this morning was unbearable, I don't know if I am strong enough to curtail my intake. I know withdrawals are supposed to be painful, but I didn't think they'd be _that_ bad. Perhaps I could bring it with me and get more on Hogsmeade weekends? I'm sure I could work something out.

And I will of course address your questions with answers of the description that I see fit; you gave me that liberty in the beginning.

1. On several occasions. Why do you care?  
2. My photo album containing photos of my parents (a gift from Hagrid).  
3. History of Magic… it's as boring as all hell.

I do also have some questions for you, as expected. I hope that you do not mind, but I have five this time, just answer three of them if you would prefer.

1. Have you ever cast any spells that could be considered dark arts?  
2. Do you have an animagus form?  
3. Have you ever caused the death of another human being (magical or muggle)?  
4. How old are you?  
5. Do you have any house elves?

I think my aunt and cousin just went to bed and my uncle will probably be home from the pub soon. I will have to leave it here lest he finds out about this. Farewell for now.

* * *

**June 26****th**** – 6.58am**

Again, a vast improvement in your decorum. It is surprising how a lecture, even one on paper can evoke such a response from the boy-who-lived. You never cease to amaze Mr. Potter. Continue on this strain and I may just continue to respond to you inane chattering.

I do not, however, approve of your stereotypical attitude towards the house of Slytherin. You should be made aware that not all Slytherins are purebloods, and more so, not all are dark lords and death eaters in training. Don't be so close-minded.

Your answers were less than satisfactory. They were not detailed in the least and the first answer did not even address my question. I will not repeat the question; however do ensure you answer the question in future communications. As for the five questions, I am not overly impressed with the change however I will answer them this time. Stick to three in future proceedings.

1. Yes.

2. Yes.

3. Yes.

4. Older than you.

5. Yes.

In fact, I would even say that my answers are even more descriptive than your own – at least I address the actual question. Try asking questions that are more open ended and you may find that you receive more explanatory answers. For example:

1. When was the last time you had a nightmare?

2. How advanced are you in the area of mind magics?

3. Why do you harbour such a strong dislike for the headmaster?

Those were not really just examples; I expect complete answers to each of those questions. As I gave five honest responses to your questions, I expect your three to be rather thorough. Do not disappoint me Mr. Potter.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

**June 26****th**** – 8.32am**

I should be doing my chores but I snuck away while my uncle is at work, just to reply to your questions. Sorry this is so short.

1. I had one last night. So I woke up and shot up and enjoyed the high with some friends before returning home before dawn.

2. I am a natural occulmens; I've never tried much legilimancy though I have read a lot about it.

3. Dumbledore holds too much power for the headmaster of a school. He is playing a larger than necessary role in the war as the self-acclaimed leader of the light. He forgets that we are people, not weapons and that mistake is deadly.

I do hope my somewhat rushed responses meet your impossible standards. I shall ask my questions later when I have a chance - there is much to be done before my relatives return home.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

**June 26****th**** – 8.32pm**

Wow, another entry exactly twelve hours later, what a coincidence! Hopefully I'll be in bed soon, so feel free to delay your response until the morning as to not wake me up, albeit nights have been less than restful recently. Perhaps I am tired enough to sleep the entire night though? Hopefully no visits from my uncle will interrupt me tonight.

Anyway, I have my questions for you.

1. What is your animagus form?

2. What is your sexual orientation?

3. Who won the most recent Quidditch World Cup?

Thanks for the advice on getting better replies to my questions; you assistance has been put to good use I do believe. And as per your request I have limited my curiosity to just three questions, although I expect comprehensive answers as I was slightly more descriptive in my own responses.

Tell me my Slytherin correspondent, are most of those in your house not equally prejudice towards Gryffindors and I am towards Slytherins? I have taken your words on board and will attempt to consider things with a much more open mind in the future.

Your questions never fail to leave me in a state of confusion. Feel free to inform me as to why you would ask about any nightmares I may or may not have or how advanced I am in mind magics. Students are not even supposed to know mind magics; they are a bit more advanced than the Hogwarts curriculum.


	3. A black panther

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives an unexpected response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, slight reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for the amazing response; it was more than I had ever hoped for. I just want to clear up a few things before I proceed.

Harry is unaware of who he is speaking to though he does have some suspicions. His belief that he is speaking to a student makes him blissfully unaware of the truth. His correspondent is clouded by how he perceives Harry to be and has picked up on many of the hints but refuses to believe that Harry is being abused.

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

In this chapter the two characters converse through the diary in real-time. Harry's lines will always be in normal typeface and his correspondent's will always be in _italics_ to make it easier to understand what is going on.

* * *

**June 29th – 6.29pm**

I must apologize for the belated reply, I have been tied up with pressing affairs however everything now seems to be in order and I may be able to resume my more consistent responses.

Your questions are of a nature that requires more response than a simple affirmative or negative, as per my suggestions. Well done. And I was most impressed with the detail, however small, that you allowed to enter into your own responses. I will proceed to reply to your inquiries.

1) I take the form of a black panther.  
2) As much as it is none of your concern, I feel compelled to answer this one as you answered my own questions. I prefer the male gender.  
3)I have no idea who won the most recent quidditch world cup.

Strange choice of questions, I must say. Have they helped in your quest to discover who I am? Or are you still unsure? I am curious about a few things that may make you uncomfortable to answer. As much as I do want responses, I do not expect you to be forced into answering any of my questions.

1) Why do you hate returning home during summer vacation and refuse to leave Hogwarts for any of the shorter breaks?  
2) What is the worst injury you have ever sustained due to non-magical causes?  
3) Do you complete a large amount of chores every day?

You see, Mr. Potter, I am becoming slightly concerned about your physical and mental well-being whilst you continue to live with your relatives. You have, perhaps inadvertently, dropped several hints about the treatment you receive under the watchful eye of your uncle. As much as I would like to continue to believe that you are waited in hand and foot in your current lodgings, I am beginning to rethink my previous judgment.

* * *

**July 7th – 10.50pm**

Please do not ignore me Mr. Potter. I should hope that you have a good reason for your lack of response over the past week.

**

* * *

**

July 9th - 11.23pm

It can't be true. Merlin no. I cannot have been corresponding with you, of all people, for this entire time. How could I have been so blind?

_I will assume that you have worked out who I am?_

Do you not care that you have been speaking amiably with the Gryffindor Gold Boy all this time?

_As you may realize, I was aware of that from the very first entry, and has it dissuaded me? Not at all._

So.. Even though I now know who you are.. Will you still write to me?

_It would appear that nothing has changed from this end. And I still expect you to respond to my questions, Mr. Potter_.

I'd rather not, Professor Snape.

_You will, or I shall have to come and assess your lodgings myself._

1) Because my 'family' fears and hates all things magical, myself included.  
2) Worse than broken bones.  
3) Yes.

_Thank you._

You're welcome.

**

* * *

**

July 10th - 7.12am

1) Do you hate me?  
2) When did you become a spy for the light?  
3) Where do you spend the summer?

* * *

**July 10th - 10.43am**

1) I do not.  
2) Before you were born.  
3) In Snape Manor, a highly unplottable location.

I will be visiting your house tomorrow afternoon at approximately 4pm. Please do not inform your relatives of my impending meeting.

* * *

**July 10th - 10.02pm**

No.

_No what?_

You can't. You can't come here.

_And why is that?_

Why are you doing this?

_Because, Mr. Potter, as much as it pains me to admit it, I would not like to see you suffer at the hands of your relatives._

Please sir, I'm fine, really.

_Do not lie to me Potter._

What would you know?

_More than you think._

Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone.

_1) Why must you avoid the truth?  
2) __Do you know how to cook a full English breakfast?  
3) __Have you completed your summer assignments?_

Don't you get it Snape? FUCK OFF.

_Are you high Mr. Potter?_

You've asked your three questions.

_So I have, and yet you have not responded._

1) Because it's easier this way.  
2) Yes.  
3) Yes.  
And yes, I am high.

_As I suspected._

Why do you care?

_Is that one of your three questions?_

Is that one of yours?

_Don't play games with me._

Don't play games with me.

_Your immaturity is tiring._

1) Why do you care?  
2) If you don't hate me, why have you always been cruel to me?  
3) Do you have any clothing that is not colored black?

_Very funny Mr. Potter._

Why thank-you.

_1) It is my duty, by law, to report all cases of abuse.  
2) __It was a misperception on my behalf that I sincerely regret.  
3) __I have some charcoal, and perhaps navy blue._

So you don't care?

_It's not your turn._

For fucks sake…

_Language…_

We're not in school.

_Does that matter?_

Is that one of your questions?

_Do not treat me like a fool._

Do not treat me like a fool.

_Merlin, what have I gotten myself into?_

Are these questions rhetorical, or do you expect a response? You really should number them.

_I was not aware that words as long a rhetorical were part of your disappointingly limited vocabulary._

I did not realize you could say a sentence without insulting someone, oh right.. You can't.

_Your command of the English language is pitiful._

Full of compliments tonight I see…

_1) Do you own a comb?  
2) __When was the first time you rode a broom?  
3) __What are your plans for the time after you graduate from Hogwarts?_

Back to the questions I see, easier ones this time though.

_Are you going to answer them or simply speculate about the nature of them?_

I could just speculate if that will satisfy you sir..

_Just answer them Potter._

1) Absolutely not.  
2) My first class with Madam Hooch at school, when Malfoy threw Neville's rememberall.  
3) I have never thought about it.

_I appreciate your answers._

I'm sure you do.

_Do you ever sleep?_

It's not your turn.

_Don't –_

Don't what?

_It is late Mr. Potter. See you tomorrow._

I'd rather not.

_You will._

You bastard.


	4. I'm not abused

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, slight reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

**

* * *

**

**A/N:** Wow, and I thought the reviews I received for chapter two were awesome but this is astonishing. Your reviews keep me writing.

This story will not be SeverusHarry slash. At this stage I have not planned for any slash or pairings in future chapters however that may change as the story progresses. If there is slash, it will not be HPSS, Severus is going to be purely mentor/father figure in this fic.

I will do my best to ensure this story does not turn into a typical abused Harry rescued by Severus fic, albeit no promises.

I have not addressed the issue of Harry's age yet. This is because I haven't decided how old he should be. I do not like Sirius Black as a character so unless it is set before third year then it must be after fifth year. Due to the fact that Harry is aware of Severus' spying then I suppose it can't be pre-Sirius but I do not enjoy the whole morning for his godfather crap. I could just ignore Sirius altogether? It doesn't matter just yet anyway I suppose.

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

* * *

A young, raven-haired boy sat on his bed, hands in his lap, head bowed. His teeth chewed worriedly at his lower lip as he contemplated the situation. His most hated and feared professor was coming to visit him today and young Harry _knew_ that the potions master would be ill-pleased with his current situation. It could be worse, a lot worse, but it wasn't exactly great. Just half an hour and the severe man would be there, and he would not be happy. There were not a lot of outward signs of abuse or neglect really, just a few not so subtle hints. Perhaps he wouldn't notice? The man is a spy! Of course he'll notice. Oh shit.

The heavy wooden door clicked open easily with a whispered spell. A slender hand pushed it wide and stepped through into the entrance of the unremarkable abode. Sinister, black eyes scanned the area before the man silently made his way towards the occupants of the house. Ever the spy, Severus took note of everything. The photos on the walls (lacking one small, emerald-eyed boy), the unsettling sterility of the entire place, and of course, the absence of said boy. Without a word to the oblivious inhabitants, the man made his way upstairs, his steely gaze falling upon a heavily bolted door. Surely not? They could not possibly lock the boy-who-lived in his room.. Could they?

Evidently they could, and did, for when the whitewashed door swung open at Snape's command, the slim teen was revealed, sitting on a moth-eaten mattress, eyes on the floor. If Snape did not harbor such a strong dislike for the boy, he would be tempted to pity him. Not only was this not a problem, but also the older wizard knew that the teen would not welcome pity right now. He needed to hold onto some pretense of strength even if he was broken on the inside. Severus did not yet know the extent of the abuse, but it was there, one just had to know where to look for it. Surprisingly, Harry Potter hid it well.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter."

"Hello Professor."

"Why, may I ask, was this door locked?"

"The locks fell shut when I closed the door."

His voice was bitter with sarcasm and his green eyes locked with the black ones of his professor as he spoke. Evidently he was still angry about the entire situation. And with good reason. Snape, however, was not to rise to the bait.

"Eloquent, as always."

"Are you done here? Sir."

"Not even close, Potter."

"Fantastic."

Harry stood. Without a word to the dour man, he moved to leave the room, however a slender hand gripped his shoulder to prevent him from passing. What was the boy thinking? That he could just rudely leave whenever he felt like it? Not a chance.

"Where are you going Mr. Potter?"

The green eyes glared angrily back at Snape's own ominous black ones, he pushed the hand away roughly, stepping backwards. With a tilt of his chin, Harry stood his ground.

"I'm sorry, I was not aware that my presence was required."

The dark eyes roved over the younger wizard's form, taking in the defensive pose, ratty, too big hand-me-down clothes, half-starved frame and the exhausted, beaten look in those startling green eyes; the eyes that were the same color as the killing curse. Yet today, they lacked their spark, they seemed… Tired.

"Pack whatever items you needs, we will be leaving within a few minutes."

"What– "

"Do not argue with me."

"Yes sir."

Without another word, Severus spun on his heel and stalked from the room, quickly making his way downstairs. His presence was noticed as soon as he entered the family room where two overweight men and a twig-like woman were sitting enraptured with the television set. All three turned towards the irate wizard, and the obese child actually squealed in fear. Snape's voice cut through the air like the crack of a whip, even though it was barely louder than a whisper. The characters on the screen chatted amiably yet their presence was forgotten for more pressing issues.

"I will be taking your nephew and leaving immediately."

The largest man stood. Snape was surprised his legs could even hold the amount of weight he was carrying on his disgusting body. How was it that this man was so revoltingly overweight while his nephew starved upstairs?

"You cannot take him, he is needed here."

A wand was stabbing roughly at the large neck before the gross man could blink. The potions master spoke in a dangerous hiss.

"I can take him. And I will. Now sit down before I make you."

Vernon's piggy eyes widened with fear. And who wouldn't be scared of the enraged ex-death eater? He could do more damage than the majority of the wizarding population when enraged and could do so without a second thought. His anger burned in his black eyes and the fat muggle wisely followed Snape's orders.

At that moment a mop of scruffy black hair appeared in the doorway, his posture was defiant yet his fearful eyes belied the truth. A dirty knapsack was clutched in the boy's hands, no sign of a trunk. Was he planning on wearing just the clothes on his back?

"Where is your stuff for Hogwarts?"

"I will not be coming back here?" There was a slither hope touching the soft voice. This was enough to melt anyone's heart (Voldemort included), however Severus seemed untouched by the childish sound. His response was distant and cutting, as always.

"No Potter, this is just a short vacation away from your abusive relatives. I fully intend to return you to their _loving_ care within a few days."

"I'm not _abused_."

"Of course not. Now where is your trunk?"

"It's locked in the cupboard under the stairs."

"And your owl?"

"She's out hunting. She will find me wherever I am going."

"Very well."

Without a backward glance at the muggles, the two wizards left the room to retrieve the trunk before leaving the house. Severus turned back to sneer at the building once more while Harry dutifully ignored it.

"Sir?"

A sigh, "Yes?"

"Where are we going?"

"To my summer lodgings as they are far more appropriate than yours."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed."

"Why not to Hogwarts, sir?"

"Do you really want the headmaster to know about this?"

Silence ensued.

"As I thought. Come along now."

"How are we traveling?"

"Portkey"

Harry paled considerably at this revelation but did not argue. He simply stretched out a quivering hand to touch the potion vial that the other wizard held out. Within seconds he felt the sickening tug at his naval before Private drive disappeared before him.


	5. The easy way out

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, slight reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

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**A/N: **This chapter is slightly different... but I kind of needed it to move things along a little. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews by the way. I may not be able to get the next few chapters out at their normal times but I will try my best.

There are song lyrics in one of Harry's entries in this chapter that I put in _italics_. I am just warning you now so that you don't confuse them for Severus. As usual, Severus' conversation is also in _italics_. If you want to know anything about the lyrics (band, song, meanings, etc.) just let me know and I will explain. The same goes for the lyrics in the first chapter too.

I have decided that Harry is in sixth or seventh year, it doesn't matter right now. This story will be post-Sirius and will explore the Sirius complications later on if I can be bothered. Again, it will NOT be HPSS slash.

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

**

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**

July 11th - 9.56pm

1) When are you going to tell Dumbledore?  
2) Where are we?  
3) When was the last time you washed your hair?

_Back to the diary I see. Are you aware, Mr. Potter that I am just two doors down from you?_

Yes.

_Very well.  
__1) I had not intended to.  
2) __Snape Manor, we are actually in Spain.  
3) __This morning._

This morning? Then why is it so…?

_Greasy?_

Exactly.

_Although it is not your turn… It is due to the fumes from the potions that I work with._

Oh.

_1) Why have you never thought about your future?  
2) __Do you want to become animagus?  
3) __What makes you think you are a natural occulmens?_

Must I answer your questions?

_It's not your turn to ask._

I'll take that as a yes.

_Indeed._

1) Because I never thought I'd live that long.  
2) Of course.  
3) What's the worst memory I've ever shown to you?

_Touché Mr. Potter. I concede your point. But why would you pretend to be incompetent in the mind magics when you have already mastered them?_

I had assumed you were reporting back to the headmaster. You are aware of my opinion of him.

_Does he know about your home situation?_

Is it your turn professor?

_Is that one of your questions?_

Was it numbered?

_Is that another?_

Shut up.

_It is late Mr. Potter. There is a dreamless sleep potion by your bed if you need it._

I don't.

_Very well._

* * *

Harry closed the diary. It was so much easier to speak to the man through writing than face to face. He glanced around the room and sighed contentedly. Okay, so spending his summer with Professor Snape was not exactly on his wish list, but it was not the end of the world. When the man had told him that they were going to his 'summer lodgings', Harry had expected a humble cottage in the countryside. On the contrary, they had been deposited by the portkey (with Harry stumbling but not falling) outside a huge manor house that more deserved to be called a castle. Harry had frozen in complete wonder at the building while the surly professor just stalked forwards without hesitation.

Harry had been amazed at the outside of the mansion and it's grounds, but the interior was incredible. It was decorated largely in navy and charcoal tones but flashes of lighter colours softened the rooms. Without a second glance at the décor, Snape had given a very quick-guided tour of the ground and first floor, only stopping briefly to point out important rooms. Harry had been forbidden to enter a number of rooms but was shown the enormous library, formal lounge and dining areas as well as a study, bathroom and an astonishing bedroom. This was a room that he would actually _want_ to go into.

To say the room was large would be a ridiculous underestimation. Enormous was probably getting close. Dark grey carpet, soft enough to sleep on, covered the vast expanse of flooring. In the centre of the room was a huge four-poster bed with deep blue and cream hangings. All of the furniture was a dark mahogany and was magnificently crafted. Evidently the Snapes were not short of a penny.

**

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**

**July 12th - 6.15am**

Breakfast will be served in the dining room at 7.30am. Please be prompt.

* * *

After reading the impossibly tidy scrawl, Harry tossed the leather-bound book onto his bedside table and sat up in bed. The sheets clung to him slightly due to the light sweat that covered his skin. His limbs shook considerably as the young boy crawled out of bed. His hands grabbed his fraying knapsack and struggled with the buckle to open it. With a tiny sigh, Harry grabbed a vial and with trembling hands drew up the dark liquid into ready syringe. This was dropped carelessly onto the carpet as the drug-dependent young boy fumbled for his belt, which was still threaded through his jeans pants that were tossed lazily on the floor. Wrapping it tightly around his bicep and pumping his hand a few times, Harry stabbed for a vein. The needle was tossed casually to the floor once more as soon as the wonder drug was easily flowing through the Gryffindor's system. He sighed deeply with relief and stood, ready to face the day.

A freshly showered teenager dressed in a huge, faded t-shirt and baggy cargo pants walked casually into the dining room where his potions professor sat at the table, idly sipping at a mug of black tea.

"Good morning Mr. Potter."

"And to you, sir."

Harry slumped down into a seat and spent the next few minutes fixing himself a strong white coffee without sugar. After consuming half of the steaming mug of bitter liquid, his emerald eyes glanced upwards, ready for coherent conversation.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes sir."

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, when was the last time you 'shot up'?"

"Not half an hour ago."

Severus raised one eyebrow; "You brought your muggle drugs into my manor?"

"You did not forbid me from doing so."

"We will have to do something about your dependency."

"Why?"

"Because it is unbecoming and detrimental to your health."

"I like heroin."

"I don't."

"I didn't ask you if you did."

"You will not be using it within these walls."

"You can't stop me from shooting up, Snape."

"I can, and I will."

"Fuck you. You can't take away my one small enjoyment."

The older wizard raised that damnable eyebrow again. "Can't I?"

"Please sir, I _need_ it."

"No Potter, you don't."

"How the fuck would you know?"

"My, my, what terrific mood swings. I would prefer it if you refrained from swearing in my presence."

"Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone."

"I have warned you once."

"Well what are you going to do about it, _sir_?" The intense green eyes flashed with burning fury. His jaw was clenched and his chin lifted as he continued in yelling in his blind rage.

"Will you lock me in my room? Hit me? Starve me? Ra-"

Stopping in mid sentence, Harry realised with shock what he had said, and what he had almost said. His jaw clicked shut audibly and the boy turned and fled the room.

The potions master sighed, "Well… That went well…" His silky voice sounded loud in the otherwise empty room.

**

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**

July 12th - 7.49am

_Any means in your horizon,  
Heaven in a tourniquet,  
The after life to keep your eyes on,  
Bitter pill you take you take today_.

Why the fuck does he have to be such a bastard? Why can't he just leave me alone? How could he do that? How could he take that away from me? He can't. I wont let him. He can't take away my only release. It's the only thing keeping me sane. And Merlin it hurts so much to go without it.

_With expert levitation forward,  
Polished to the nth degree,  
It takes it's smile from every children,  
You take the beating._

I'd rather be back at Private drive _with_ my drug than stuck here _without _it. Holy shit. What am I going to do when this stash runs out? Oh fuck. I hadn't thought about that. Ah well, I'm sure I can sort that out when the time comes.

_Any means in your horizon,  
Every mink walks two by two,  
We gamble to be born again,  
You know I never wanted to._

I need to control my temper. How could I have said that shit? Oh gods. He _knows_. He'll send me away for sure. What the fuck was I thinking? I'm so fucking stupid. Now he knows how filthy, how dirty, how _broken_ I am. FUUUCCCKKKK.

_With expert levitation forward,  
Polished to the nth degree,  
It takes it's smile from every children,  
You take the beating._

And I didn't even have breakfast.

**

* * *

**

July 12th - 8.03am

_Interesting entry, Mr. Potter._

Oh fuck.

_Indeed._

I did not just do that… Did I?

_If by 'that', you mean wrote in your diary forgetting that I would be able to read it all… Then yes, you did._

Fantastic.

_It was a compelling read._

1) Why are you such a cruel bastard?  
2) Why shouldn't I be allowed my drugs?  
3) Can you just forget that this morning ever happened?

_Of course, the age-old three questions._

I can't be bothered with your games. Just answer them. Please.

_1) It's the easy way out.  
2) I believe I already answered that this morning.  
3) No._

Why not?

_Is it your turn?_

Is that one of your questions?

_You will be cleaning cauldrons this afternoon due to your disrespect to me this morning._

Can't wait.


	6. I kid you not

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, slight reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

**

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**

**A/N:** I do apologize about the long delay in updating. I was away for the weekend and have been extremely busy. I have midyear exams in a week so don't expect daily updates until after I have finished those.

Some people have said that they either don't like Harry using drugs and/or don't believe he would. I am not going to write this out of the story; it is vital for a few reasons. Not only would an abused child be more than likely to try drugs, but also the struggle to become clean will assist with the relationship between the two characters.

Due to time constraints I am unable to reply to all of the reviews I have been getting (which is fantastic and very much appreciated) however I will try my best to reply to as many as I can.

At this stage, I have no beta. If anyone would like to beta my chapters before I post them feel free to let me know. I am aware that there are some typos in previous chapters and I do apologise for these mistakes. Sorry it's so short but I wanted to get this chapter out.

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The most hated and feared professor of Hogwarts stalked up to the bedroom he had given to the boy-who-lived. Could the boy not tell the time? Ten minutes ago Snape had sent a house elf to inform him that he was to be present in Severus' private lab however there was still no sign of the damnable teenager. Without knocking, the irate professor forcefully pushed open the heavy door, fully expecting to find Potter lazing on the bed. The scene that did meet his eyes was rather unexpected to say the least.

Harry sat on the floor, his back against the bed. Around his left arm was his belt, done up tightly while his right hand held a full syringe. After straightening his arm and pumping his fist a few times, the young wizard stabbed the needle into his pale arm, aiming at one of the bulging veins. He stilled his hand and drew backwards with the syringe slightly, yet no blood was sucked back to mix with the dark liquid in the syringe. He changed the angle slightly and pushed the needle deeper, to no avail. With a growl of frustration, the boy tossed the still full syringe back onto the carpet and tightened the belt, pumping his hand some more.

Evidently he was unaware of the dark eyes watching his every move. After a few more seconds, Harry picked up the syringe and pierced his ivory skin again, drawing back only to hiss in anger as he had evidently missed the vein again. Stilling his slightly shaking hand, the boy stabbed deeper at a shallower angle, drawing back to see his own red fluids to mix with the darkness that already filled the syringe. He plunged and then sighed in relief as the drug entered his system.

"Enjoying yourself Mr. Potter?"

That was more than enough to shock the teen. The syringe feel to the floor and vibrant green eyes met cold blackness before turning away. Harry's right hand fumbled with the belt to release it and watched with awed eyes as it fell to the floor like a dead snake.

"Did you want something, Professor?"

"Perhaps, in your drug-induced state, it slipped your mind?"

"What slipped my mind?"

"Your detention."

"Oh fuck."

"Language Mr. Potter."

"Sorry sir."

"No you're not."

This was met with a disinterested shrug.

Snape narrowed his eyes in anger as his wand slid easily into his hand and before the younger wizard's own eyes, the drugs disappeared along with the syringes, needles and even his belt.

"No! I need that stuff!"

"No you do not."

"I do! Especially my belt!"

The wand flickered again and a brown leather belt appeared. "There you go."

"I need the other shit too. Please sir."

"No."

"You can't do this. I need it. Please."

"You do not need it."

"I do. You don't understand. Please sir."

"You have cauldrons to clean."

"I'll clean the whole damn lab if you give me my drugs back."

"You're not in a position to be negotiating."

"Whatever."

"You will come with me."

No response was spoken so Severus assumed compliance and turned, exiting the bedroom to head towards the lab. Upon entry, he wordlessly indicated towards a large pile of, perhaps fourteen, cauldrons of various shapes and sizes. All were filthy.

"You're kidding."

"Believe me Mr. Potter, I kid you not."

"Fantastic."

Severus chose to ignore the infuriating child in lieu of preparing more ingredients for the wolfsbane he would have to start brewing ASAP.

Harry was good at cleaning. He'd been cleaning for his family for years; it was something he was good at. But that did not mean that he enjoyed it. On the contrary, it reminded him of the endless days he spent cleaning floors, windows, walls, weeding the gardens and all the other chores he was forced to do for much too long. Snape was not aware of this, so Harry couldn't really blame him, but it did make his blood boil. What right did that man have to take away his only lifeline _and_ make him clean filthy cauldrons all afternoon?

His rage simmered below the surface as he scrubbed furiously at the grime and lost himself in the repetitive motions of cleaning. The pile of clean cauldrons grew while the dirty ones gradually diminished. It was tiring work, but Harry was not one to complain. At least he was being beaten or starved, or worse.

**

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**

July 12th - 10.23pm

Thanks for the detention today sir; I really enjoyed it.

_I could tell._

I don't think it's fair of you to assign detentions when it's not during the school year.

_Life's not fair Mr. Potter._

I am aware of that.

_1) Why are you so terrible at potions class?  
2) __Are you afraid of the dark lord?  
3) __How long has the headmaster known about your home situation?_

I've got an idea sir!

_Go ahead…_

You give me my heroin back, and I'll answer any questions you have.

_No._

Why not?

_Because I'd rather you were clean._

I'd rather answer your questions.

_Evidently._

Please?

_Just answer the questions Potter._

1) Because no matter what I did you'd never acknowledge hard work from me anyway.  
2)I'm not afraid of him. But I am fearful of the amount of power he wields.  
3) I believe he has known all along.

_You cannot blame your incompetence in the art of potion making on myself._

That's not what I meant. I just never tried because I could never live up to your impossible standards anyway. And then when it was established that I was horrible at potions, it was a good mask to hide under.

_I see. Perhaps you should try._

No way am I doing anything for you. You took my dope.

_You should do it for yourself, not for me_.

1) Would you rather spend a day with Voldemort or a week with Lockheart (pre-obliviated)?  
2) Do you ever eat the headmaster's lemon drops?  
3) What are your parents like?

_Perhaps it is time to retire for the night Mr. Potter._

In all fairness, I answered your questions, sir.

_As you wish.  
1) __Voldemort  
2) __Never  
3) __Dead_

I'm sorry.

_You have nothing to be sorry for. My mother died a long time ago and the death of my father was no loss._

I see.

_When will your withdrawals begin?_

I believe it has been about eight hours since my last hit. I am fairly limited in knowledge regarding heroin withdrawals, however I have been told they will peak between 48 and 72 hours without the drug and will become painful within 24 hours.

_Fantastic._

You could just give my stuff back.

_Certainly not._

I didn't think so.

_Go to bed Potter._

Good night sir.

_And to you._


	7. It's Harry

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, slight reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

**

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**

**A/N:** This chapter is focused around Harry fighting the cravings. Not a lot happens other than the development of character relationships.

I would like to thank a reviewer; Padawan Jan-AQ for one of the ideas in the chapter (the forth and fifth paragraphs I believe) and, of course, all of my other reviewers for their words of praise and their constructive criticism. I write for all of you, so thank you.

For interests sake; I have no idea where this story is going yet as I am writing it as I go. I don't even have a basic plot line worked out. I do not know how long it will be but I doubt more than 15-20 chapters, otherwise I shall lose interest. I have considered ending it at the end of the summer, we'll see. I will try to include journal-talk in most chapters albeit there will be more face-to-face conversation as the plot progresses. While Harry is experiencing withdrawals, he will not be writing.

I have never, myself, experienced heroin withdrawals however I am describing the symptoms from research, both from reading and observing. If you do not think that the symptoms are realistic, you have a) never seen anyone go through this in real life and/or b) not researched it thoroughly. The speed and the intensity of the withdrawals largely varies in individuals and is influenced by tolerance of and dependence on the drug.

* * *

A low groan could be heard as one small boy tossed and turned in his bed. A light sheen of sweat covered his body, soaking through his pyjamas and dampening his bed sheets. Green eyes flickered open briefly before they were again clamped shut as if to avoid the pain by refusing to look at it. Harry turned onto his side and drew his knees up to his chest, knowing that unless he did something about it, the pain that throbbed in his muscles and bones would only get worse.

Perhaps his drugs had not 'disappeared' altogether, but had simply been relocated. If he looked hard enough, surely he would find them. But where to look? And how the fuck was he supposed to get up when it hurt like hell to even lie still?

It had only been 18 hours and already the teen was suffering. By now, Snape would be having breakfast or in his lab. The drugs however, if hidden, would be in the man's room. What better chance then now to check it out?

The heavy, oak door opened easily under a light push from Harry's shaking hand. The room was done largely in dark blue with silver and black details. Not bothering to admire the décor, Harry focused on the task at hand; find some heroin. Firstly, the teenager raked his eyes over the bedside table, which held a lamp and precious little else. Obviously it would not be that easy. On the desk sat a familiar looking diary, although Harry knew it was not his own, it was rather unnerving to see it there; the twin. He pushed it roughly out of the way and began searching through drawers hurriedly. His arms shook as he nervously, desperately ransacked the professor's personal quarters, to no avail.

The Gryffindor finally growled in frustration and threw the leather-bound diary across the room. Oh fuck. The room. He slowly let his eyes rove across his least favorite professor's bedroom. To say it was a mess would be a massive understatement. The previously spick and span floor was covered, almost every inch, in heavy dark fabrics; just about the entire contents of the man's wardrobe was strewn about the carpet. But it got worse. Parchments, books, quills, ink, the entire desk was empty, relocated to the floor. Draws hung open in various stages of disarray and even the adjourning bathroom was a frenzied bombsite.

The adrenalin that had flowed freely through his veins for his entire rampage was gone. Harry was exhausted. The cravings, the fighting, the searching, it had all worn him down. With a distraught moan, the young raven-haired wizard slid down the wall and drew his knees to his chest, curling up into a fetal position. Tremors wracked the whole boy's frame and he suddenly felt freezing cold in just his sleep pants; chest and feet bare.

It was mid-morning when Severus decided to check on Harry. Hopefully he was still sleeping and would miss out on a few hours of withdrawals. Unfortunately, for both parties, the boy was not asleep in his bed. Nor was he in the shower, library, study, family room or kitchen. Where in the world would he be? The potions master walked hurriedly through the silent halls, peeking into room after room in search of a certain dark-haired teenager. It was only when he entered his own room that the mystery was solved.

Too-bright green eyes locked with Severus' somber gaze. The whites were bloodshot and the black hair was wet with sweat. This was not good. As head of Slytherin house, Severus had surprisingly never had to deal with drug withdrawals before. It was simply not Slytherin kosher to depend on a muggle substance.

Severus suddenly realized why Harry was in his room. The boy had been looking for his stash! Well he wasn't going to find it. It was gone, forever. Dutifully ignoring the mess, the man walked over to the child that was curled up on his floor. He reached down to help the young wizard to his feet however a clammy hand pushed the assistance away in favor of finding his own feet. Standing, albeit shakily, Harry said not a word, his jaw obviously clenched against the pain of the withdrawals.

Wordlessly the two men walked side-by-side back to the younger wizard's room. The heavy silence that hung in the air between them was obviously thick with blame. Harry blamed Snape for taking his drugs and forcing him to suffer while Severus blamed the Potter boy for creating a reliance on the heroin in the first place and for trashing his room, not that he was too annoyed about the latter. As much as it was rude and thoughtless of the teenager, he was not entirely in control of his actions and so could be excused, for now.

As soon as his lovely, soft, comfy, warm bed was near enough, Harry collapsed into it. He was breathing heavily and while tears ran down his face, he was not actually crying. Sweat still dripped down his skin yet it was too cold, goosebumps rose on his bare skin and shudders wracked his entire lithe body.

"Please sir."

"You need to fight this Harry."

"I can't."

"You can."

"You know it's not even too bad yet, I mean, it's only going to get worse."

"I'm sorry."

Silence followed this confession. Was he really sorry? And since when did the dour potions master call him by his first name? The other man stood to leave but Harry let out a distressed whimper.

"Don't go."

He hated sounding so much like a lost child, but he didn't want to be alone right now. Not with his mental defenses shot to hell and with the demons of his past threatening to plague him as soon as his eyes closed.

"Perhaps you should try to sleep."

"No!" Perhaps he spoke that too quickly. "I.. I should wait a bit longer."

"It's okay to be weak sometimes Harry."

This was met with an incredulous look before the boy turned away. So did he want company or not?

After a few minutes of tense silence, Severus withdrew his wand and flickered it, murmuring a spell. A glass of water appeared on the bedside table yet the teen shook his head, almost imperceptibly, and turned back to face the older wizard.

"Hurts."

"I know. Perhaps I have some potions that would help?" Why hadn't he thought of that earlier? Dreamless sleep could probably keep the boy knocked out for the majority of the withdrawals.

"No. I deserve this."

"As much as this is inadvertently self-inflicted. Nobody deserves this."

"I do."

"If nobody else does, why would _you_ deserve this, Mr. Potter?"

"It's Harry."

"Sorry?"

"You called me Harry before."

"I did."

"I prefer that."

"If nobody else does, why would _you_ deserve this, Harry?"

There was no reply to this. A touchy subject perhaps? Was this self-depreciation brought about by the withdrawals or did it always lurk beneath the surface? Severus was unsure.

"Just try to relax."

"Easy for you to say, sir. You're not the one sweating profusely while feeling like a block of ice with fire in my bones and a god-awful headache."

"I am not the one who created this problem."

"You're right. I am, so I deserve the pain."

"That's not what I meant."

"Well it's what you _said_! Why do you give a fuck anyway? What difference does it make to _you_ if I am dependent on heroin? What difference does it make to _you_ if I have to shoot up every few hours to stay _sane_? Why do you care? You've always been a fucking bastard to me! I don't want your pity because my home situation isn't what you imagined it to be. I've put up with it for a lot longer than you've known. Why couldn't you just leave me the fuck alone?!"

As much as Severus knew it was the cravings that were causing Harry's erratic outbursts, his words rang true. If the teen were living the life Severus had assumed he lived, he would probably not care about him now. It was all true.

"I do care Harry."

"I wish you didn't."

"I know."

"Leave me alone, please."

"You asked me to stay."

"Just… I don't… I can't… It hurts." His voice sounded pathetically child-like yet he couldn't help it. As much as he didn't want Snape asking questions, he really didn't want to be alone. He had been alone his entire life, and now there was someone here, he didn't want to lose that.

"It will get better."

"Not before it gets worse, Professor."


	8. A shot of smack would be nice

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, slight reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

* * *

**A/N:** I must, again, apologize about the long delay in updating. I have finished my midyear exams now. Physics and Accounting were done on Wednesday and then Psychology on Thursday and a three-hour GAT (General Achievement Test) was done today (Friday). I will try to get back to regular updates again. This chapter perhaps rushes the withdrawals a bit however unless I hurry things up, Harry will be having withdrawals for the entire story.

Thanks for all the reviews. Hopefully I will be at 100 soon, that would be awesome.

* * *

The troubled young wizard was hurting, that much was evident. His ivory bed sheets were tangled around him in a sweaty mess and the lovely soft, warm blanket was in a crumpled navy pile on the floor. Severus' dark eyes fluttered open to see the bane of his existence shaking uncontrollably on the bed while apparently unconscious. His lifted his left hand to rub his eyes while reaching down to retrieve the blanket from the floor. Without a word it was tucked around the boy and the trembling lessened, if only slightly. A wand was flickered unobtrusively and within seconds a potions vial was in the man's slender hand. Thank Merlin for headache reliever potions.

Evidently at some stage Harry had fallen asleep but that small mercy was without doubt not going to last forever. Sure enough, within a few moments a pitiful moan was produced from between clenched teeth yet what happened next was entirely unexpected.

The raven-haired teen's bloodshot green eyes flew open and he crawled desperately towards the edge of the bed. Collapsing in a quivering heap with his head hanging over the side of the four-poster, Harry began to retch. Severus stood and immediately conjured a basin but not before his spotless grey carpet was drenched in lovely yellow bile. It didn't end there though. For the next few minutes, the Golden Boy continued to heave his insides up into the self-cleaning basin. Having not consumed anything for over 24 hours, Harry's vomit was largely nothing, yet the dry retching continued.

Anything for a shot. Anything. He'd give his right arm, his wand, his _magic_. This was awful. Actually, awful didn't touch on what this was. And it seemed to go on forever. Perhaps he'd die like this. That would be bliss. However, it was not to be. Harry was finally allowed reprieve from the heaving, yet not from the rest of his pain. Salty tears dripped from his cheeks onto the cream sheets yet Harry couldn't bring himself to care.

As soon as he was leaning upright against the headboard, a cool class of water was pushed into his hand. Almost simultaneously a damp cloth was on his forehead. He felt utterly disorientated. Who was looking after him? He pushed the helping hands away and blindly groped for his glasses, which were soon placed at his searching fingertips. When the world came into focus, though not entirely, the pain and illness seemed to be clouding his vision, Harry reached for the water. His throat felt as if it was on fire.

"Do you need anything?"

This was met with a cold glare. Did he need anything? Let's see. He could think of plenty of things.

"A shot of smack would be nice."

"I asked you if you _need_ anything, not if you _want_ anything."

"I _need_ some drugs."

"No, you don't."

"You weren't the one throwing your guts up for what seemed like an eternity, you don't have a clue what I _need,_ sir."

"I know that you do need to fight this so that you may return to Hogwarts."

"You know, Professor, returning to Hogwarts is not exactly at the top of my fucking to do list right now."

"I can imagine."

Suddenly the half-empty glass was thrust back into the potion master's hand and this time he knew what to expect. The basin was in front of Harry's face before he could blink. And so it continues.

Severus was exhausted. Actually, I don't think that quite covers it. He had only slept, or should we say rested, for a handful of hours last night in a _chair_ beside the bed of one boy-who-lived after looking after the damned boy for the entire day beforehand. And it still wasn't over! He had finally managed to convince the stupid child to take a dreamless sleep however it was the only one he could take unless he wanted another addiction. Severus knew that if he wanted to snatch a few hours of sleep he should do it now because in about 8-10 hours the teenager would be waking and wouldn't have had any drugs for almost… 60 hours. Hopefully it would be over shortly after that.

Apparently it was a larger dose than usual, or perhaps Harry was too weak from pain and exhaustion to fight it, whatever it was, the potion kept Harry knocked out for almost 12 hours. Severus, who had woken after just 6 hours, had read for a short while before sleeping once more and upon Harry awakening, the Slytherin was still blissfully asleep. This would probably be his only chance.

Gritting his teeth in determination, the Gryffindor pulled himself off the bed and stood on shaking limbs. He growled in frustration at how pathetic and weak he was before pulling himself together enough to exit his bedroom. But where would he find something to ease his pain, his _need_?

Severus woke and immediately looked at the time. He'd been asleep much longer than anticipated. Suddenly a crash sounded followed by clinking glass, reminding the potions master of what had awoken him. Throwing the covers off, the tall man grabbed his outer robe and threw it over the long black trousers and shirt he had worn to bed, hastily buttoning it up as he raced in the direction of the sounds of breaking glass, dread growing in his stomach. Slamming the door to his storeroom open, Severus came across a sight he would never have even dreamed up.

Harry was on his knees, surrounded by broken glass and rapidly mixing potions, hissing and bubbling on the floor. The idiotic boy seemed completely unaware of the danger he was in and was madly rummaging through cupboards of potions, searching for Merlin know what. Blood soaked the boy's hands and fingers, dripping into the lethal mixtures of potions to create a fatal concoction.

Without a second thought to his own bare feet, Severus rushed forwards, his wand drawn casting cleansing and banishing spells as he rapidly approached the addict. His feet crunched over the broken glass yet his sole being was focused on removing the teenager from the dangerous situation. He reached out and grabbed a thin upper arm with his own slender hand yet an uncharacteristic strength from Harry's other hand pushed him backwards a few steps. Not to be dissuaded, Severus grabbed again, this time with a much tighter grip. The boy fought him. Stumbling backwards away from the potions mess, the older wizard held the child to his chest, practically dragging him from the chaos. Harry sobbed and punched and kicked wildly, thrashing against the strong arms that held him.

After several minutes of fighting the grip of the potion's master, the boy fell limp in the strong arms that held him, save for the shaking of his limbs. His entire body hurt and he felt like he was going to vomit again. And he'd failed. He had not found _anything_ that he could safely take to cure his need. His arms were numb yet he could faintly feel liquid dripping from his fingertips. Was it blood? Potions? Or was he imagining it?

Severus was at a loss. The stupid, idiotic, thoughtless Gryffindor! His wand worked rapidly to remove any potion residue from the teenager's body, particularly his hands, which were bleeding quite profusely. He had no idea what the mixtures of potions could do if they entered the bloodstream and with this thought, he became vaguely aware of his own bleeding feet.

"Brainless child." He muttered under his breath angrily as he worked. After doing all he could to clean the areas, Severus lifted the too-light boy and walked painfully over to a sterile bench where he deposited his burden. A few wand movements over his own feet had them mostly healed so he could sort of the abrasions and glass that the younger wizard had collected.

Almost an hour later and Severus felt as though he had not slept at all, his body was depleted magically and physically as the adrenalin wore off. The foolish stunt that Harry had pulled had endangered them both and the Slytherin was unsure as to whether any of the potions would have delayed effects on the teen. He'd just have to monitor him and wait and see. In the meantime, he had healed the cuts and removed the glass as best as he could and had put a locking charm on the door of the bedroom so that no such things would happen again. The boy had not said a word.

**

* * *

**

July 16th - 3:58pm

The worst of it passed about 12 hours ago but I'm still shaking badly and craving a hit. Sorry about the writing sir, I can't stop my hand from shaking and you wont let me take the bandages off yet so I can't even hold the quill properly. I'm not sick anymore and the pain in my bones and muscles has lessened considerably. If I could just have a little bit of heroin… then I would feel great. I don't think I ever want to eat again though; the mere thought of food makes me want to vomit.

_I thought I told you to go to sleep Mr. Potter._

I'm not tired, sir.

_Very well._

_1) Will you take heroin again in the future?  
2) __Do you truly think that you deserved the pain of the withdrawals?  
3) __How long have you been taking heroin?_

Maybe I'll just go to sleep.

_Do not test me._

Well I thought we were done with the questions.

_So you do not have any more questions for me then?_

1) I cannot promise that I wont.  
2) I suppose… I mean, I would have preferred to not go through that, but it was my own fault.  
3) I've been regularly shooting up for the last few months.

_I find it hard to understand how after going through those withdrawals, you would consider continuing to inject the drug into your system._

Well it was not _my_ decision to stop taking it.

_Indeed. But it is for the best._

I can decide what's best for me.

_Evidently you cannot._

What would you know?

_More than you, Mr. Potter._

1) How did your father die?  
2) How did your mother die?  
3) Why do you teach? You do not seem to enjoy it.

_I think you should go to sleep Harry._


	9. Fanfuckingtastic

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, references to child abuse, slight references to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

* * *

**A/N: **Wow, it's been two and a half weeks since my last update. That's horribly slack. I am so very sorry. I have actually written the next two chapters already (this one and the following one) so I will have them out within a few days of one another as to not leave you hanging for too long. Thanks again for all your fantastic reviews, I am nearing 100, yay! Most people seem fairly pleased with the fic so far. Hopefully you will enjoy this entry.

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

* * *

Harry threw the quill down in disgust and anger, snapping the diary shut and tossing it onto his desk. What a fucking hypocritical bastard! He made me suffer through three days of complete hell, and he wont even answer my fucking questions! I hate him. Why couldn't he just leave me at the Dursley's to rot? At least I had my drugs there and no snarky bastard breathing down my neck.

Insomnia was a lasting side effect of the heroin withdrawals, and would probably plague him for some time. As was Harry's lack of appetite, which had Snape harping at him at every meal. Why should he care if Harry ate much or not? Nosey bastard. He'd eat if he was hungry, end of story. Apparently not. Every fucking time he sat down at the dining table the greasy bastard was watching him like a fucking hawk, telling him to eat more, putting more food on his plate, annoying the absolute crap out of him. Seriously, get a fucking life.

The need was still there. Nagging at him, draining him, fighting him. As much as Harry would kill for some heroin, he didn't want to go through the withdrawals again and with Snape around, he wouldn't be given another option. Perhaps if he could take it on the low? Snape wouldn't even have to know. Harry decided, then and there, to send a letter to someone who he could get the drug off. He'd have to be sneaky. The man was a spy, after all. But he could get it. There were plenty of people who sold it. The only problem was sending an owl to a wizard who sold it. How many wizards sold muggle drugs? Harry doubted there were many. Hmmm, this would require some research.

* * *

The potions master sighed and ran his fingers through his lank hair. How was he supposed to deal with the moody teen all the time? In all fairness, delaying answering those questions was not the best idea. But they were personal questions! A voice in the back of Severus' mind quietly reminded him about the personal questions that he had demanded answers to, but the man pushed the voice aside, he didn't need that right now. He gently placed the leather-bound diary onto his desk, he would ponder a response later, he had more important things to think about, like one damnable Gryffindor.

Insomnia was not something Severus had considered as a lasting effect of heroin reliance. He doubted it was something Harry had considered either. The boy was perpetually tired yet never seemed to sleep. And when he did, his sleep was restless. Severus had entered the darkened bedroom periodically throughout the night, sometimes to find the boy laying awake on the bed while in turns seeing him tossing and turning under tangled sheets. And the stupid child refused any offers of potions to assist with his night-time troubles. Annoying brat.

* * *

Harry sat on the edge of his bed. He felt ill. Okay, he felt fucking awful. He was sweating again even though chills shook his body and he could feel bile rising in his throat. Like, what the fuck? Weren't the withdrawals over? His brain was pounding in his skull. Doing a bit of quick, rough maths in his mind, Harry calculated that it had been almost 4 days since his last hit, that was plenty of time for the worst of the withdrawals to be over. Most people said day two to three was the most unpleasant. So why was he so fucking sick again? A wave of nausea washed over the boy and he stumbled blindly across the bedroom and into the bathroom, collapsing onto his knees on the tiles in front of the toilet. His body convulsed painfully as his stomach was emptied into the porcelain bowl. What the fuck was happening?

Several minutes later, Harry returned to his bed, laying on top of the covers, even though his bones felt cold, his skin was on fire. He had only been lying down for a few moments when he heard faint footsteps approaching his room. Great. No doubt Snape was coming to check that he was sleeping. Just what he needed to soothe his throbbing head.

The dour man knocked lightly on the door, as was his custom.

"What the fuck do you want now?"

Severus rolled his eyes at the response. If he had the energy, he would reprimand the boy, but he knew it was only done to annoy him and his efforts were fruitless. Still…

"Language, Mr. Potter. And why are you not sleeping?"

"You woke me up when you knocked on the door."

The reply was dripping with sarcasm, yet the tone was tired and there was a slight scratch to the teen's voice. Taking a few steps closer and waving his wand subtly, the dim light in the room became brighter and Severus scrutinised the Gryffindor. He was on top of the covers, which was not too unusual considering it was summer. No, it was the paleness of Harry's skin and the slight flush of his cheeks that had the potions master worried.

"Are you well, Mr. Potter?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic, _sir_."

Snape stepped closer, as if to check that the boy was, indeed, telling the truth, however Harry turned his head away and seemed to shrink into the blankets slightly. Evidently his teacher's concern was unwelcome. With a curt nod, Severus turned to leave the room, waving his hand slightly to dim the lights once more.

"Goodnight Harry." He murmured softly as the door closed behind his dark form.

* * *

**July 17****th**** - 1:23am**

H E L P

* * *

Severus rolled over angrily as his diary began to chime. What in Merlin's name could the boy want to tell him at such an ungodly hour in the morning? Knowing that until he opened it, the diary would not stop flashing and making those ridiculous noises, the older wizard stood, slipped a robe on over his sleep pants and bare chest, and crossed the room to the desk. As soon as his dark eyes scanned the short entry, Severus gasped and then read it again, trying to work out whether he had deciphered the shaky, barely legible text in it incorrectly, or if he had perhaps misread it in the dim light. However, it was not to be.

With the diary laying open on his desk, the man stepped his feet into a pair of black shoes while hastily buttoning up his robe. His mind was reeling with scenarios that Harry could have potentially gotten himself into, none of them good. The boy rarely, if ever, asked for help, so he knew that something must be horribly wrong.

* * *

The Gryffindor was terrified. His whole body felt as though it were burning up and the agony originating from his stomach made him believe that it was actually consuming itself. His heart was beating much too fast and his breath came in short, harsh gasps. This was a lot worse than the withdrawals. With fumbling hands, Harry had jotted the plea into his diary, hoping that the potions master would realise the urgency of it. It pained him to ask for help. He had always looked after himself. But this was worse than anything he had ever experienced before; Harry felt as though he were _dying_.

Severus forced the door open and entered the bedroom, gasping for breath after his desperate run. His hand waved urgently and the lights sprang to life, dark eyes searching for the boy. There was no sign of him, and his diary still lay open on the table by his bed. A whimper from the bathroom caught the man's attention and Severus spun around, striding quickly to the source of the pitiful sound.

His eyes fell upon a heart-wrenching, nightmarish scene. Harry was slumping against the wall beside the toilet. His pale chin was dripping blood and bile onto the once-pristine tiles. Said tiles were stained with blood and vomit from the child. Where was he bleeding from? Severus' mind raced. Why was he so sick? The wizard was on his knees beside the boy within seconds, his wand in his hand, waving furiously. As far as he could tell, there were no cuts on the boy. What about the blood? Where the hell was it all coming from?

Harry convulsed violently, choking up more blood and acidic bile. His whole body shook and his eyes rolled backwards. Severus suddenly realised that the blood was coming from the boy's throat, or perhaps his stomach. His wand never ceased its movements, running diagnostic spells with an unbelievable urgency.

"Harry? Harry can you hear me? Listen to me."

A choking sob as the boy convulsed again followed by a horrible gurgling as he tried to breathe was the only response.

"Harry, stay with me! I need you to focus on breathing. Nothing else."

He had no idea what was wrong with the teen, or even if he could hear him, but he knew that if he didn't do something soon, he was going to lose him.

His wand kept moving, elaborate movements that Snape hadn't used in a long time. Still his scans showed nothing! How could this be!? Suddenly a deep blue light flashed over the boy's stomach as his wand passed it. He repeated the incantation, moving his wand again and the same light glowed briefly. Poison. How had be been poisoned? Images of a stricken Harry smashing potions vials in his storeroom just days earlier flashed into the man's mind. How could he have forgotten!? He had meant to closely monitor the boy to ensue no ill effects occurred. How could he have been so stupid? Earlier that afternoon Harry had seemed off yet he had ignored it! Stupid, stupid-

Severus stopped berating his own stupidity as the boy's thin frame convulsed again. This time for longer, his arms thrashing wildly. Severus fought to hold him down, all the while running through the stock in his storeroom in his mind, trying to work out whether he had an antidote on hand. Blood from Harry's stomach was staining Severus' robes as it dripped from the teen's lips. Time was running out.


	10. Over the moon

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, slight reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

**A/N:** Another update within about 24 hours. It must be Christmas! Thanks again to my reviewers, you entice me to continue writing, even if there are, on occasion, large delays in updates. So I hit 100 reviews, which was my goal, so I am pretty much over the moon about that.

The final request from Sev in this chapter was actually inspired by a reviewer, Useless19. Thanks for the idea! And for all my other fantastic reviewers, send in ideas and I may just use them in my story. No promises.

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

* * *

A whispered incantation later and a vial containing a pale orange liquid was in the slender hand of the dark-haired potions master. He hesitated. What if the boy couldn't stomach it? How much of the antidote did he have on hand? Said boy began to cough violently and Severus could tell he was struggling to breathe. Droplets of blood flung from his red lips, dotting the white walls of the bathroom in a hideous pattern. Severus called another _accio_, this time for stomach settling potions, in the hope that he could make the teen hold down the antidote. Gripping the boy in his arms, the slender back pushed against his own chest, the older wizard tilted Harry's head back and forced the potion down his throat. Less than a second later, the child spluttered and began to choke, rivulets of blood and the stomach settling potion running down his chin and onto his clothes. Severus growled and grabbed another vial, pouring it down the boy's throat as he choked for breath. His movements were frantic with worry. Again the potion was brought back up in a mixture of blood and bile. How was he going to get the antidote to work if the Gryffindor couldn't even keep down a stomach settler? Harry's movements were getting weaker and Severus desperately tried again, this time a blanket of relief washed over the man as the younger wizard seemed to swallow and relax. His relief was short-lived however as the potion was again ejected from the boy's stomach. The situation was becoming dire. Another growl of frustration lit within the potions master, this time tinged with a sense of urgency and desperation. Another potion was poured down the abused throat, and this time, it didn't come back up. Severus paused for a moment, unsure as to whether he could believe it or not. Had it worked? He grabbed another and forced it down the throat of the child. Again, it stayed down. Without further delay, the dour man grabbed the pale orange potion and delicately made the teen swallow it, holding his own breath in anticipation. A convulsing body made Severus clutch at the boy, hard. Was he going to vomit again? Was he going to live? Was he too late? Thankfully, the slim body went limp once more. The professor relaxed for several seconds before the realisation hit him that the body was, in fact, motionless. Even the rise and fall of Harry's thin chest had ceased. It took another few precious seconds for this to sink in.

"Harry?"

"HARRY?!"

Desperation clutched at Severus, squeezing his heart like an iron fist. No. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not after all this. The body began to convulse again and Severus shook the boy hard. Willing life back into that pathetic form.

"BREATHE HARRY!"

"Come on, breathe for me."

His strong arms shook the teen's limp body harder, unwilling to believe that any of this was happening.

"Harry? Please…"

A great shuddering breath broke the silence that followed Severus' plea. As if that one word has encourage the boy to live. Thank Merlin.

* * *

Exhaustion didn't quite cover it. After feeding the boy half of the contents of his medicinal potions cabinet, Severus could finally relax a little. He sat in a soft chair beside Harry's bed, reliving the tense moments over and over. How had he allowed this to happen? How had he not realised that the child was ailing? But then again, he _had_ realised. But he had shrugged it off. Well that was stupid. Voices argued in his mind until he pushed them aside. He couldn't deal with that crap right now. In fact, if he weren't so worried about the boy, he would take a dreamless sleep and get some rest. Hmmm, that sounded like a good idea.

* * *

**July 17****th**** - 9:20pm**

So I know you told me to stay in bed and relax for the next eternity, however you know I don't really sleep and when did I ever obey your rules? Anyway, I would really like to know what the fuck happened last night? I remember feeling sick in the afternoon and then it just got worse and worse. I tried to sleep but my stomach was on fire and I started vomiting. And then I woke up feeling as though my throat and stomach were in shreds. What the fuck happened to me? I thought the withdrawals were over. In fact, that was much worse than any withdrawals, I would have welcomed death right then. Merlin, that fucking sucked.

_Mr. Potter. I should have known the dreamless sleep would not knock you out forever._

Are you going to tell me or not?

_Of course.  
Due to your little… potions experiment the other day, a potion entered your system that was detrimental to your health._

Detrimental to my health? I felt as though I was dying!!

_Indeed, you very nearly did._

What the fuck?

_The potion was a poison that I had made for the dark lord a long time ago. After entering your bloodstream, it made it's way to your stomach and was slowly, but surely melting your internal organs. Your stomach would have been first, followed by the rest of your digestive system and your lungs. After that, your heart and brain._

And you have this shit just lying around in your fucking storeroom?

_Actually, they are all in locked cabinets, in your desperation for the drug you managed to break through some of my wards. Needless to say there are even stronger wards in place now._

Fuck.

_Language Mr. Potter, please._

Fuck you Snape.

_I do believe that there are some dirty cauldrons that could do with some cleaning. Perhaps that will entice you to hold your tongue._

So how did you 'save' me, sir?

_An antidote._

Of course. So let me get this straight... I got a potion in my bloodstream several days ago and last night it began to melt my organs. You just happened to have the antidote on hand and fed it to me and it… reversed the process?

_Not exactly._

Well?

_Your stomach was in bad condition and your lungs were also beginning to melt. I had to use several potions and spells to reverse the damage that the poison caused. It was an acid-based potion that was altered to focus on certain-_

Spare me the lecture, sir.

_And seeing as you have severely depleted my supply of medicinal potions, I will need your assistance to restock my cupboards._

You want me to help you make potions? Are you kidding sir?

_Believe me Mr. Potter, I am not._

You, of all people, know that I am horrible at potions.

_A second-year pepper up shouldn't be beyond even your capabilities._

Don't hold your breath, sir.

_I don't intend to._

Just looking out for you, as always :)

_Oh dear._

You should be pleased.

_I'm over the moon, Mr. Potter._

I can tell.

_I believe you once told me that you could cook a full English breakfast?_

Is that a question or a statement?

_Can you?_

Yes.

_I find it hard to believe that you could do such a thing while being so utterly incompetent at potion making._

When cooking a decent breakfast can save you from a shitload of pain, it's not so difficult after all.

_So were I to treat you similarly to the way you uncle did, then you would be able to brew potions more proficiently?_

Quite possibly.

_Interesting._

Well when one's survival depends on it, it's kind of inevitable.

_1) My father was killed by the dark lord.  
2) __My mother was killed by my father.  
3) __I only ever taught because Dumbledore could offer me more protection from the dark lord than anyone else._

I'm sorry sir.

_What exactly are you sorry for, Harry?_

For asking you those questions.

_I see._

And for being angry when you refused to answer them

_You have nothing to apologise for._

Okay. But thank you, for answering them. And for saving me.

_I couldn't have the Golden Boy found dead in my bathroom due to being poisoned. I think that would be a little bit too coincidental._

Hahaha, perhaps.

_Go to bed Harry._

Okay, good night sir.

_Good night. And I expect you to cook breakfast in the morning. I will let the house elves know._

Great.


	11. You were entirely serious

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, slight reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

**

* * *

**

**A/N:** Okay, so this chapter is kind of a nothing chapter. Not a lot happens, and I do apologise for that. I feel as though I need to give Harry and Sev a break though. I know their relationship is moving very slowly and you will notice in this chapter that Harry seems to be resisting his newfound respect for Sev. I assure you that things will move a little fast as time goes by, but I can't imagine them becoming friends too quickly. Oh, this chapter is a little longer too

Oh and just a heads-up for those who don't like Dumbledore-bashing, this chapter contains a little bit of it. I am unsure as yet, but future chapters may also contain Ron and Hermione bashing. As I said, I haven't decided yet but don't kill me if it does happen.

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

* * *

The dour potions master stepped casually into the dining room, entirely unprepared for the scene he found laid out before him. A steaming mug of English breakfast tea sat on the table beside a glass of pumpkin juice. In the centre of the table sat a bowl full of breakfast rolls, evidently still warm. Severus glanced around suspiciously, his mind flickering back to last night's diary-conversation, before sitting down. After waiting several minutes, sipping casually on his tea, a dark-haired young boy entered the room holding a large plate in his right hand and a bowl of fruit and yoghurt in his left hand.

The plate was set in front of the professor before Harry stepped away and sat opposite, setting his bowl in front of himself. Severus' eyes roved over the plate. It, of course, held a full English breakfast, as promised. Golden brown toast was covered by lovely yellow eggs, over-easy, just how he liked them, a few rashes of bacon and two sausages sat to one side along with a fried tomato and a hash brown. The man raised one eyebrow in surprise and locked eyes with the teen.

"You were entirely serious."

"I told you I could cook breakfast."

"I still had my doubts."

"Are you going to eat it?"

"Why are you not eating something similar?"

At this question, Harry squirmed uncomfortably. A breakfast such as the one he had just cooked was something that he could never stomach. It wasn't that he didn't like bacon and eggs; it was more the memories that accompanied the cooking of the meal. Without raising his eyes from the bowl in front of him, Harry's voice was soft and almost slightly nervous.

"I.. I prefer fruit and yoghurt."

Sensing the boy's discomfort, and distrust, Severus let the topic drop. It would not do to push him at this stage, especially after a particularly tolerable start to the day.

Harry picked at his meal unenthusiastically. It was true, he did prefer fresh fruit in the mornings, however he was seriously not hungry. Even though he felt fully healed from last night's… debacle, Harry really wasn't up for eating. It was _apparently_ a lasting symptom of heroin withdrawals; a lack of appetite, but Harry didn't believe that shit. In fact, he could never remember having much of an appetite in the mornings, or ever. On the topic of heroin however, a shot would go down sweet right now.

Severus watched the younger wizard out of the corner of his eye as he ate his own breakfast. He had to admit, Harry cooked a _very_ good breakfast. The eggs were faultless, as was the bacon, and… well, everything was cooked to perfection actually. What was concerning him, however, was his young charge's behaviour. The boy had yet to put any food in his mouth and was simply pushing the cubed pieces of fruit around his bowl, making a lovely, messy mixture with the yoghurt.

"Are you okay Harry?"

"I'm fine professor."

"I see. So why are you not eating?"

"I'm sorry sir, I'm just not hungry."

The boy actually did seem apologetic. In fact, his whole demeanour seemed rather down this morning. There was no way his apparent depression was going to get him out of his punishment for use of offensive language last night though.

"You are to come with me to the lab and scrub cauldrons due to your insolence last night. This afternoon I expect your assistance with some potions."

"Yes sir."

This agreeable, almost meek Harry was actually quite unnerving. Where was the boy's fight? Where was his teenage rebellion?

* * *

Harry lost himself in the methodical scrubbing of the cauldrons. His mind wandered as he worked. This, he was used to. This, he could understand. Cleaning was something he had done since a very young age and so he was quite proficient at it. He could do this in his sleep; it required very little focus, which was great as it gave the boy time to think. He pondered his situation. Stuck here, all summer, with his potions professor, head of Slytherin house, greasy git extraordinaire. And so far, it had been hell. In fact, all that had come of the stay was pain and humiliation. Physical pain from the withdrawals and the poison, coupled with emotion pain and degradation from personal questioning and general belittling was not the way Harry had planned to enjoy the summer. On that note, he knew that it would be no better at his uncle's house, except for the small fact that he would have his drug to ease the pain. He wasn't really sure which one he preferred at this stage.

A silky voice brought him out of his musings.

"Come, it is lunch time."

Harry looked down at the cauldron in his hands. It was cleaner than it had probably ever been and he had just one left to finish.

"I'll just finish this last one sir."

"No, you will come and eat lunch. You did not eat breakfast."

Harry's green eyes looked up into strict black ones, anger shining in his emerald depths. A small voice in the back of his head whispered something about concern for his well being however his anger pushed the voice away.

"I'm not hungry."

"You will eat lunch."

"You can't make me."

Severus raised an eyebrow at this. As much as the boy's response was welcoming after his earlier melancholy mood, he was not really in the right frame of mind to deal with this behaviour.

"I can, Mr. Potter. And I will not hesitate to do so if you continue to disrespect me in such a manner."

"Just let me finish the cauldron and I will come to lunch."

Although he was uninclined to back down and allow Harry to win the argument, he was not going to stand here and argue with the moody teen for the rest of the day.

"As you wish."

There was an element of surprise from Harry before the boy flashed a triumphant grin and quickly reached for the final cauldron. Severus waited patiently, watching the teen closely as he worked. It should not have been surprising, as the older wizard now knew about Harry's home situation, however he was still slightly shocked at the boy's adeptness at cleaning.

* * *

"I do expect you to eat something, Mr. Potter."

"Can't you let me look after myself?"

"Well leaving you to your own devices has not worked well up until now, so now we shall try my methods."

"I am not going to starve myself to death, _sir_, so I'm sure I can make judgements on this matter."

"No Harry, you can't. Your decisions have not proved valuable to your health in the past and I don't expect the nature of them to change in the near future. _Eat._"

Harry growled angrily in the back of his throat and stabbed a potato dramatically with his fork. In truth, he'd never had such good food, at least not over the summer, however he knew that he couldn't stomach it right now. Or ever again it seemed. One would think that he would be starved and would revel in being able to eat decent meals regularly throughout the vacation. On the contrary, Harry found it difficult to enjoy something that was related to so many punishments in the past. Of course, Snape was evidently not going to let him win this one, so the boy slowly began to chew through the ridiculous amount of food that was piled on his plate.

The potions professor watched the teenager surreptitiously. He was amazed at how the boy could live off such a meagre amount of food. After eating about a third of what was on the plate, Harry seemed to think he was done and proceeded to push the remainder of the food around his plate. Ah well, it was not worth another argument, not right now at least.

* * *

"READ the instructions boy!"

"I did, _sir_!"

"Well then why have you decimated the mandrake rather than cubing it like the book tells you to?"

"It is _cubed."_

"It is _not_. Grind what you have ruined into a powder, bottle it and put it in the storeroom so that it is not wasted. Then you may get another and I will show you how to _cube_ an ingredient."

"I'm sorry I didn't prepare my ingredients _perfectly_."

Harry's voice dripped with sarcasm and frustration. He had put up with Snape's criticism all afternoon and was growing weary of the constants insults thrown his way. Couldn't the man at least be civil? Apparently not.

"No you're not. And I do not expect _perfection_ from the likes of you, Mr. Potter, however I do expect more than an unrecognisable mess."

This was not even dignified with a response. Harry quickly ground the mandrake into a fine powder, following his professor's directions as to no waste the plant. He then retrieved a new one and walked slowly back to the bench, dreading this _lesson_.

Severus removed the plant from Harry's hand and placed it gently on the bench between them. He paused for a few seconds, trying to think of a way to explain the procedure in such a way that Harry could relate to it, or at least understand.

"If you were cubing apples to make a pie for your aunt, how would you do it?"

The boy looked up in surprise. He had evidently not expected this. Slowly he raised the knife and began to cube the mandrake. Severus was pleasantly surprised at the skill and speed at which Harry was able to prepare the ingredient. Within just a few seconds, the plant was entirely cubed into almost perfect squares on the bench. Severus raised one eyebrow in wonder.

"A vast improvement Harry."

Well, that was certainly as close to a compliment as it got coming from the dour man. And Harry felt good. In fact, he could feel a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. When he thought about it, potions really was a bit like cooking, albeit it probably required much more precision.

"Slice that shrivelfig and continue with the potion."

* * *

**July 18****th**** - 8:45pm**

I still can't believe I didn't botch up that potion.

_If you put as much thought into potions as you do into cooking, you could be almost passable at the subject_.

Was that a compliment sir?

_No._

Hahaha, it's okay, I won't tell anyone.

_Thank Merlin._

Luckily, you have me to guard your secrets.

_I am torn between jumping for joy and pouring my heart out to you Mr. Potter._

You could do both, sir.

_Or I could do neither._

That too.

_1) What is your opinion of Draco Malfoy?  
2) Have you spoken to the rest of the Golden Trio this summer?  
3) Do you have any friends other than your school friends_?

Are those seriously your questions? I mean, why do you ask questions that you already know the answer to?

_I do not._

Surely you know what I think of Malfoy?

_I am unsure of the depth of the enmity between you._

1) He's certainly an improvement on Dumbledore.  
2) No.  
3) No.

_You have not even owled them?_

I haven't really had a chance, sir.

_And they haven't owled you?_

I don't think so.

_It seems awfully inconsiderate of them._

Hermione is at the Burrow for the summer, so they're probably arguing with Dumbledore to try and get me to stay there for a few weeks.

_I see._

You don't believe me?

_I find it strange that your only friends have not contacted you._

I suppose…

_Do you not care?_

I hadn't really thought about it.

_Evidently._

What's that supposed to mean?

_Nothing Harry. Go to bed._

It's not even nine o'clock sir!

_You have not slept much the entire time you've been here; go to bed._

I'm not tired.

_There is a dreamless sleep beside your bed._

You know I wont take that crap unless I need it.

_You need to rest; your body is still repairing the damage that the poison caused._

I feel fine.

_I've no doubt you do. How that happens leaves me constantly perplexed though._

What do you mean?

_You seem to survive on very little sleep and even less food. It is rather strange._

Just used to it I guess.

_You shouldn't be._

Well I am.

_You know the way your relatives treated you was wrong, don't you Harry?_

I guess.

_You don't seem convinced._

Well it's a little hard to believe that, when I was constantly told that I deserved it all until this summer, even Dumbles didn't think I deserved better.

_I am quite sure that the headmaster does not know the extent of what your uncle does to you._

Do you actually think he doesn't know what goes on? He knows it all. He always has. Do not try to defend him. Not to me.

_Surely he would remove you-_

No. He wouldn't. He won't.

_How can you be so sure?_

Trust me Snape, he knows exactly what goes on in that house and does not do a thing to prevent it.

_That is hardly the point though. What happens there is wrong. It should not happen to anyone, you included._

Whatever.

_If your friends were treated that way by their relatives, would you allow it?_

Of course not!

_Then why are you so different?_

I just am!

_Why should you deserve it if no one else does? What makes you so special?_

Stop it! Just shut up.

_You don't deserve it Harry. You don't deserve any of it. Please take the dreamless sleep._


	12. Death Eater scum

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, slight reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

* * *

**A/N: **So it's taken a little bit longer to get this chapter out, however I didn't really know where to go from where I ended it last chapter. So after a few failed attempts, this is what I have come up with. Sorry it kind of sucks, don't get your hopes up. It's so bad I'm almost embarrassed to post it, however I need to post something between now and Harry's birthday, that will come in the _next_ chapter. Hopefully it will be easier to write. Oh and I do apologise if there are spelling/grammatical errors, it's after midnight and I just wanted to get it out.

This one is just kind of answering some questions that people have probably been thinking about recently. I wont go into too much depth though as it is not paramount to the plot.

Thanks for all the lovely reviews. I appreciate it a lot and do try to reply to most of them.

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

* * *

The two wizards sat at the dining table together. They had not yet spoken to one another apart from the customary greetings. There was simply not a lot to be said. Or so Harry thought.

"Once you have finished your breakfast Harry, I would like to speak with you."

"I'm finished."

Severus eyed the full bowl of fruit in front of the boy doubtfully. He raised one eyebrow in a silent question.

Harry pushed the bowl away from him. His appetite was still non-existent. No matter how much his professor tried to make him eat more, he just couldn't stomach it. He was as thin as ever, or perhaps thinner than ever, considering the various ailments he had suffered throughout the summer break so far.

"Sorry sir, I'm just not hungry."

"You will eat some more. You are still much too thin."

"I can't."

"You could try."

"Please don't make me."

"You need to eat more Harry, please."

Perhaps it was the weary, almost pleading tone in Snape's voice, or maybe it was simply that Harry was too sick of arguing to bother putting up a fight. Whatever it was, the boy reached for his fork and stabbed a chunk of fruit, resentfully curbing to the potion master's wishes.

"Thank you."

* * *

Harry sat curled up in an armchair, a thick book resting on his knees. He was waiting for the older wizard to arrive so they could discuss whatever it was on Snape's mind. Whenever his uncle asked to speak with him, it was never good. In fact, it almost certainly resulted in a beating, or worse. He shook his head slightly, squeezing his eyes shut. No. Snape would not hurt him. Not like that.

As he entered the room, Severus' eyes fell upon the slight form of the boy-who-lived. He could tell by the boy's position that he was wary. His shoulders were tense and his body practically projected fear from every pore. The professor tried to emit an air of calmness; it would not do to have Harry relate talks with him as a terrifying experience. He lowered himself gracefully onto a sofa and summoned a house-elf to serve them some tea, seemingly delaying.

"You wanted to talk to me sir?" A soft voice broke the relative silence, tinged with hesitation and perhaps a hint of trepidation. Even though he tried to keep his fear from showing, he couldn't mask it entirely, and not much got past the ex-spy anyway.

After pouring tea for both Harry and himself and taking a few sips of his own, Severus finally spoke up. His tone was neutral, evidently trying to put Harry at ease.

"My godson, Draco, usually comes to stay with me for a week or two at the beginning of August."

The Slytherin kept his dark eyes on the teenager the entire time, trying to gauge his reaction. All he could draw from the boy was fear.

"Malfoy is your godson?"

"Indeed."

"And he will be coming to stay here in… about ten days time?"

"More or less."

There was a tense silence for several seconds while Harry considered this new information. He sipped at his tea a few times before speaking. His body seemed controlled but his brilliant green eyes showed his simmering anger.

"You know he hates me… right?"

"I am well aware of the enmity between you, however I can assure you that he does not _hate_ you."

"He certainly doesn't like me."

"That I will not deny."

"And you expect us to live in this house together, for upwards of a week, in relative peace?"

"I do."

"Sorry sir, but are you out of your mind?"

Harry tone had risen above the fearful softness of earlier and it now rang out loudly across the living room. His body trembled slightly, and he stood from the couch, rage bleeding into his voice.

"He HATES me, sir. He always has and he always will. He goes out of his way to make my life more miserable than it already is and you want me to _live_ with him?"

"Calm down Potter."

"You have to be kidding."

"I am not _kidding_, Mr. Potter and I do expect you to conduct yourself in a respectable and restrained manner while he is staying here."

"No."

"No?"

"I… He thinks I'm a spoilt brat!"

"You are acting like one."

"Don't you _dare_ imply that I am spoilt in any way."

"Touchy subject Mr. Potter?"

Severus found himself ducking to miss a teacup that was unceremoniously thrown at his head before turning to watch the boy flee the room. He sighed in frustration. Why couldn't anything be simple? That annoying voice in his head mentioned something about purposefully riling the boy however Severus ignored it.

* * *

How could he? He _knows_ how they treated me. He _knows_ what my uncle did to me. He _knows _how I feel about it. Why would he do that? Harry growled in anger and swung around to punch the wall of his bedroom. His knuckles hit the cold stone wall with a loud _crack_ and pain shot up through his hand all the way to his shoulder. His eyes began to water but he ignored it and picked up a textbook off his desk to hurl at the opposite wall. He was so fucking angry.

* * *

_Hey Lucas,_

_I desperately need something from you. You know the drill. I've included some money to pay for everything. Please send it as soon as possible._

_Raven_

Harry folded the parchment and tied it to the leg of an impatient barn owl. He also placed several galleons in the pouch on her leg before telling her where to go and sending her out the window.

After much research, Harry had finally worked out whom he could safely contact for drugs. And so, using one of Snape's owls, he had sent his letter. Hopefully it would arrive at a time when the bastard potions master was not around. He could only cross his fingers in that respect.

Raven was the name Harry went by on the streets, largely due to the inky darkness of his hair. Unwilling to reveal his true identity, everyone knew him by that alias and nothing else. He found that most street kids, particularly those involved in illegalities, were inclined to use false aliases anyway, so her was certainly not alone in that.

* * *

**July 22****nd**** - 10:12am**

_I should apologise for the way handled the situation this morning Harry. I should not have said some of those things. And for that, I am sorry._

No sir, I'm sorry for reacting badly. I understand that he's your godson.

_He doesn't hate you._

Well he certainly acts like it.

_Do you hate him?_

Hate is a relatively strong word sir…

_Do you?_

I don't think so. I hate Dumbledore.

_But you do not regard my godson with the same level of contempt?_

No, but he is still death eater scum.

_He does not wish to follow in his father's footsteps._

But he will anyway.

_As I did at his age._

That's different, sir.

_How so?_

It just is.

_It is not. You simply haven't given his a chance to redeem himself._

He will never become a spy for the light.

_I do not expect him to. It is a dangerous game and I would not wish that upon anyone._

I can imagine Tom would get rather peeved if he found out.

_Rather peeved?_

Well, he's not the most controlled of persons.

_Only you would speak of his murderous temper so mildly._

Malfoy is perfect death eater material.

_Give him a chance Harry and you may be surprised._

I somehow doubt it.

_He is not his father any more than you are your father._

You make a valid point.

_Indeed._

1) Will you teach me to become animagus?  
2) Why have you been not called while I've been here?  
3) Does the headmaster know that I am not in Surrey?

_You do know, Mr. Potter, that not everyone can master the art of animagi?_

Yes sir. I would like to try though.

_1) If you wish.  
2) I am no longer a spy for the order.  
3) I would suggest that he does, albeit I have not spoken to him._

Since when were you not a spy?

_Since our favourite dark lord learned of my treachery._

Oh shit.

_Indeed._

I'm sorry.

_Spying was not the easiest lifestyle Harry, I am glad it is over._

Why are you not dead then?

_Eloquent, as always._

Sorry sir, but wouldn't he have killed you when he found out?

_I was able to take an emergency port key to escape._

But he surely cursed you before you could get to it.

_Of course, but you know as well as I that he prefers to torture his victims before killing them. I was a long way from death when I got out._

So… that would make you and I number one and two on his to kill list?

_Quite possibly._

Fantastic.


	13. Mr Traitor

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, slight reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

So it's been almost a week since I've updated, however I think the wait will be worth it. I worked hard on this chapter. I had a lot more I was going to put into it however I needed to end it and get it out for you. It's longer than any of my previous chapters; expect longer chapters now as the plot is developing.

* * *

**A/N: **The final scene in this chapter was inspired by the movie _Good Will Hunting_, it stars Matt Damon and Robin Williams, anyway, it's a fantastic movie, your should all watch it.

I will, hopefully, be able to wrap up this story within twenty chapters, however it is looking to be longer than I originally planned it to be.

I had also planned for Harry's birthday to be in this chapter however I needed to end it where I did. I guess it'll be in the next one. Anyway, time for Harry to start healing. Enjoy the chapter.

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

* * *

Severus Snape's cold, dark eyes watched as a non-descript brown owl flew across the grounds towards the window of his son's bedroom. Who was he corresponding with? The owl appeared to be one of the many manor owls. Which was quite odd. Not that one of the owls was being used, simply that the boy wasn't using his own. Didn't he have a snowy white owl that he always used to contact his friends and the order? Come to think of, he hadn't seen said owl for quite a while. His eyes narrowed slightly as the bedroom window was opened and the creature disappeared into the bedroom. Could the damnable boy not use the owlery?

A tapping at his window shifted Harry's attention from his charms homework to the owl that was waiting impatiently outside the glass. He jumped up and opened the window, allowing the bird entrance. It flew once around the room before landing gracefully on his outstretched arm.

After untying the small package, no letter was sent with it, Harry allowed the owl to leave and placed the package on his desk. He stared at it for a long time, unsure what to do. Should he take it? Should he start using again? More importantly, would he be able to get away with it? What if Snape caught him? He picked it up and placed it in a drawer beside his bed, turning away for now, he could wait.

**

* * *

**

**July 30th - 2:27pm**

Where is your owl Mr. Potter? I have not seen it this summer. I fear it may be disorientated by the elaborate wards on the manor and is unable to locate you. Unless another bird that already knows of the manor's existence accompanies it, your owl will perhaps be unable to find her way here.

**

* * *

**

July 30th - 3:45pm

I have not seen her either and I am beginning to worry about her sir. She never takes this long to find me.

_As I said, the wards may be causing her absence._

Well how can I find her?

_For now, you cannot._

Professor! I need her.

_Who have you been corresponding with?_

Nobody, I don't have my owl.

_You used a manor owl._

How the fuck do you know?

_You could have at least used the owlery, and then I may not have noticed._

Just a friend, _sir._

_Granger or Weasley I assume?_

No.

_You told me you have no other friends._

What does it matter to you?

_I am just curious._

Leave me alone.

* * *

Harry put the diary back down on his desk and looked towards where he had placed the drugs. They teased him, willing him to come and take them. He turned away again, a slight shake to his limbs as he did so. He wanted to, he really did, but he was afraid of the consequences of being caught. He couldn't deal with another round of withdrawals, he just couldn't. The pain, the fighting, the need, it would just be too much. He was too fucking weak.

After several minutes, Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He stood and left the room, slamming his bedroom door behind him. He needed to get out. He need to run or fly or _something_. Pushing open the heavy doors of the library, Harry sighed when he found it empty, aside from the millions of books. He moved on to the sitting room, also empty. The boy ran one hand through his inky hair and headed towards the forbidden rooms. He knocked on the man's bedroom door but received no response. Next he tried the potions lab.

"Come in."

Harry drew his hand back in surprise. He hadn't expected the professor to actually be in there. I mean, he's a potions master, so it would seem obvious, but Harry had given up hope of finding him any time soon. He slowly pushed the door open and met the black gaze of his teacher.

"Can I help you?"

"I was just wondering if perhaps I could go flying, or at least go outside."

Snape sighed at this. He _had_ been keeping the boy cooped up for far too long. It was only a matter of time before he needed to get out.

"If you help me finish this potion, then I will take you out flying."

"Yes sir."

Harry was set to work chopping and slicing and grinding and dicing various ingredients for the dreamless sleep potion. Severus kept his eyes on the boy at all times, ensuring he did not make any mistakes. Although his preparation was rather sloppy, as if he was distracted, the Gryffindor did not make any mistakes and quietly did as he was instructed with no complaints. The slightly shaking of his fingers, however, did not go unnoticed by the spy. To say the professor was surprised at Harry's competence would be an understatement.

"If you worked like this in class, I would not fail your potions quite as often."

"Yes you would."

"What do you mean?"

"I hand in plenty of potions that are passable, yet you still fail me."

There was no response to that remark. Severus, however, paused his movements to think about it. Perhaps he had been too harsh on the Potter spawn. Alright, he had been _very_ harsh on him. He knew that. And he regretted it now.

* * *

The wind in his hair, stinging at his eyes, tearing at his clothes, it made Harry feel so _alive_. This was euphoria. Better than heroin, better than winning, better than anything. He could do this all day. If only he wasn't so damn tired. He'd only been in the air for about thirty minutes, but his body was already protesting. His arms were shaking lightly, whether in exertion or _need_ Harry was unsure. His legs were weary from gripping the smooth broom and his head was pounding.

Severus watched, hawk-like, as the seeker flew. He really did fly beautifully. It was clear that the boy belonged in the air. A few times Severus' dark eyes narrowed when Harry flew dangerously, but the man trusted the younger wizard's ability on the broom so was not too worried. His eyes followed the slender form as it soared towards the ground. It seemed he had had enough.

His breath came in gasps as the teenager landed on the soft turf and strode towards his professor. He was surprised at how unfit he was, and frustrated. He was sick of being so fucking weak. Even at the start of the school year, after three months of near-starvation, he was not this pathetic. But then again, he was usually hard at work with his chores all day. He ran a hand through his messy, wind-blown hair, nodding to the Slytherin that he was, indeed, finished flying for the day.

* * *

**July 30th - 9:51pm**

Thank-you for letting me fly today sir. It was great.

_I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Your assistance with the potion was greatly appreciated._

And I didn't even screw anything up.

_Indeed._

When will Malfoy be coming, sir?

_In a few days. I believe he was planning on arriving on the 4__th__ of August._

Does he know I'm here?

_He does not. It would be best if you were in your room when he arrives so that I can explain the situation to him first._

Yeah.

_He is not his father Harry, and I cannot turn him away._

Speaking of his father… shouldn't Lucius be trying to kill you, Mr. Traitor? Why is he letting Draco here?

_The Malfoys and Snapes have long since been associates. Our opposing loyalties to the Dark Lord have no effect on that._

But couldn't Voldy just order him to kill you.

_He could._

Purebloods are so fucked up.

_Even so, you will treat Draco with respect while he is here._

Of course sir, anything for you.

_I'm serious Mr. Potter._

Okay, okay, I'll be nice.

_1) What do you usually do on your birthday?  
2) Would you prefer to be here, or at your relatives' residence?  
3) Have you trained to become animagus at all?_

Well that was a bit left field. I thought we were talking about Malfoy.

_We were, however now we are not._

I think I'd prefer to continue talking about him if that's okay.

_It's not okay._

No really, I'm over the three questions thing.

_It was you who started it._

So?

_Just answer them._

1) My relatives don't exactly lavish me with gifts.  
2) Here.  
3) I've read a few books.

_I did not ask what your relatives do not do on your birthday, I asked what you do. Answer the question Potter._

I stay up until midnight and at that time I receive gifts from my friends. Other than that, it is the same as any other day.

_I see. And what about your cousin? What are his birthdays like?_

You had your three questions.

* * *

A dark haired boy sauntered into the sitting room. He froze as his green eyes landed upon the relaxed form of his potions professor. Well, that was unexpected. Why wasn't the man in bed? Did he ever sleep?

"Good evening Mr. Potter."

"Professor." Harry replied with a curt nod. He was slightly confused as to why Snape was here and not in his bedroom, however he was not going to be rude right now.

"Fire whiskey?"

The teenager's eyebrows lifted at that? Perhaps the man was possessed? Drunk? Why else would he be offering alcohol to a teenager mere hours before midnight?

"Sure."

Severus flicked his wrist and a bottle of deep amber liquid flew towards him followed closely by two heavy glasses. He poured the whiskey generously into both glasses before sitting back with one in his hand, gesturing to the other one for Harry.

Said boy looked at him suspiciously but accepted the drink with a nod of thanks.

"So, Mr. Potter, why are you not in bed?"

"I already told you, I don't go to bed until after midnight."

"Of course. Your birthday celebrations. If you could celebrate your birthday any way you wanted, how would you do it?"

Black eyes watched as the Gryffindor thought about this. He frowned slightly and took another sip of his fire whiskey. It wasn't something he'd really considered and had never actually seen a normal birthday celebration, unless you considered Dudley's birthday _normal_.

"I don't know, sir."

"Well, how does your cousin enjoy celebrating his birthday?"

"What does it matter?"

"I would just like to know, and it may help you to talk about it."

"Well why do you care? Stop fucking _caring_. Stop pretending that you give a shit what my birthdays are like for my cousin and me. You don't have a fucking clue."

"I do care Harry, that's why I was asking. I want to know."

"It's none of your fucking business. Why do you give a fuck about me? You never have before. Nobody has ever thought about what happens behind closed doors for the boy-who-lived. I wish I didn't live. I wish I'd died that night with my parents. Everyone else would be so much better off. Cedric wouldn't be dead. Sirius wouldn't be dead. The world wouldn't be such a fucking mess."

"You cannot blame yourself for the deaths of those killed by the dark lord."

"Yes I can. Haven't you heard the prophecy? It's up to _me_ to kill him. And I haven't. So it is _my_ fault. Until I can kill the bastard, people will continue to die. And guess what? That's on _my_ shoulders."

"You cannot control what he does. It's a war. People live and people die. It's not all up to you. You're a child. You are not alone in this war. It's ridiculous for Dumbledore to put all this pressure on you. You are not expected to kill the dark lord by yourself. There is a whole army of aurors ready to assist you."

"Why do you always call him 'the dark lord'? Can't you say his fucking name? It's _Voldemort_ or better yet, _Tom_ _Riddle_. Stop being so fucking weak."

"Don't you _dare_ call me weak. I have lived as a spy for over fifteen years, facing potential death every time I arrive at his meetings. My reasons for referring to him as the dark lord are my own and you will _not_ patronize me for it."

"You're scared. You're too fucking pathetic to gather up the courage to say the name of a psychotic dark wizard. SAY IT: Voldemort."

"You know _nothing_ Potter. Do not, for a second, think you know _anything_ about me."

"Well that's just the thing, isn't it sir? You know all this stuff about me, yet whenever I ask you questions you don't give me decent answers. I've had it with these games."

"No Potter, you _don't_ want to know about me."

"What the fuck would you know about what I want? I'll tell you what I want, _sir_. I want to be normal. I want to be a kid. I want a family. I want some heroin. I want to worry about school and quidditch and relationships, not psychotic evil wizards that are out to kill me, and prophesies that name me as the one to kill Voldemort or be killed. I don't want to kill. I don't want to be responsible for so many deaths - "

"Those deaths were not your fault Harry." The silky voice of Severus cut in.

"They were." Harry shot back. His eyes were on the floor and his voice was quiet.

"No, they weren't." The older wizard stood up, walking slowly towards the teenager.

"Yeah, okay." Harry also stood; his emerald eyes lifted this time, filled with tears of grief and fear.

"Harry, it's not your fault." Severus continued to walk forwards. He needed to make him understand. He needed to make him realize that he was not responsible for everything that had gone wrong in his life.

"Yeah, I get it." Harry backed away until his back hit the cold dark wall. The four words echoed through his mind _it's not your fault_. But he couldn't believe it. It was lies. Always lies.

"No you don't. It's not your fault, none of it." Now the taller man stood just inches away from the stricken teenager. His voice was soft, yet held a tinge of urgency to it as he repeated those four words to the boy again and again.

"Alright."

"It's not your fault."

Tears dripped down the face of the famous boy-who-lived.

"Listen to me Harry, it's not your fault."

Harry let his tears fall and felt his body begin to weaken. All the grief, all the guilt, all the anguish that had been building up inside of him was threatening to spill out, and Harry was powerless to stop it. He took a deep breath and opened the floodgates, sobbing shamelessly into the arms of his potions professor. For once in his life, there was an adult figure there to hold him, to help him heal.


	14. Your secret is safe

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, slight reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

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* * *

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**A/N: **At the start of the previous chapter, I stupidly wrote "Severus Snape's cold, dark eyes watched as a non-descript brown owl flew across the grounds towards the window of his son's bedroom". It should read "Severus Snape's cold, dark eyes watched as a non-descript brown owl flew across the grounds towards the window of the Gryffindor's bedroom". No, Sev does _not_ have a son and does _not_ consider Harry as his son. This was a mistake on my part. Only a handful of people seemed to pick it up and review about it though, go figure.

A fairly short chapter and a long time coming, sorry guys, I think I'm losing my muse.

Enter Draco, let the fun begin.

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

* * *

_Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding._

A soft chime broke the silence that had descended over the two wizards. They had been sitting, mesmerised by the flames of the fire, for almost half an hour before the clock striking midnight shook them from their reverie.

"Happy birthday Harry"

"Thank you sir."

They seemed to have reached a word-less truce. Or perhaps the peace was entirely alcohol-induced. Whatever it was, for the last hour or so the dark haired men had spoken without argument and sat in companionable silence. Harry was no stranger to alcohol, any teenager who indulged in drug abuse no doubt drank heavily as well. Since before he tasted any drug, the Gryffindor had been drinking regularly, albeit this had ceased when he took up heroin. Severus too enjoyed whiskey every so often, particularly after a meeting with the dark lord, and he could hold his liquor.

Harry blinked blearily as a book was placed on his lap. He looked up, meeting the sombre black gaze of his professor. The present was no wrapped, nor was there a card, however gifts came few and far between for Harry, and so he cherished each one equally. He glanced down at the cover. _Dark curses and defending against them._ Evidently the title left nothing to the imagination. All the same, it was exactly the kind of book that the young wizard would not only find most interesting, but also most useful in coming years.

"Thank you sir, you didn't have to."

"You're welcome." Was the simple reply. With that, the taller man stood and walked towards the hall. He paused and then turned in the doorway, glancing back for a second to watch the boy who had, only a hour or so beforehand, collapsed in his arms.

"Good night Harry."

"Good night sir."

* * *

A sharp tapping at the window caught Harry's attention as soon as he entered his bedroom. Why did owls have to come to his room instead of going to the owlery? He strode easily across the room and flung open the window, complete shock ensued.

A large snowy white owl just about knocked the teenager down as she entered the room, squawking indignantly. The sharp beak of the bird immediately abused his left ear as the owl continued to beat her wings about his head in order to stay in the air. Harry lifted his left arm and felt the bird latch on with her long talons, calming down slightly.

"I'm sorry girl. I didn't know you wouldn't be able to get here."

This did not seem to help as she turned to nip at his hand, making her displeasure at being _abandoned_ all too clear.

Harry sighed and moved to sit on his bed, waiting for Hedwig to calm down. It was then that he noticed that two other owls had also entered the room. One was unmistakeably a manor owl; it was probably that which allowed the other owls entrance to the highly warded grounds. Ron's owl Pig was also present.

He searched through his drawers for the bag of owl treats he kept. After feeding each owl, the manor owl left, the other two remained. He relieved Hedwig of her parcel first. It contained Hermione's birthday correspondences.

_Happy Birthday Harry!_

_I hope that the summer is going okay and the Dursley's are not giving you too much strife. We (Ron and I) have been trying to get Professor Dumbledore to let you come to the Burrow but he seems very reluctant to even discuss you, any ideas as to why? Or are you as confused as we are?_

_I also hope that you have completed your summer assignments by now. Ron still has most of his left to do; he seems intent on doing them at the last possible second. This may help you with some of your work._

_Love Hermione._

Harry smiled slightly at this, of course his friends hadn't forgotten him! He then turned his attention to the parcel, wrapped in metallic blue paper. He carefully opened it. A book of course. Animagi; Unlock The Inner Animal. Harry grinned, it was perfect. Now he could begin to study to become Animagus. He hoped he was a big dog like Sirius, that would be cool. A sharp peck from Pig turned Harry's attention to Ron's gift.

_Happy Birthday Mate!_

_I hope your vacation has been alright so far, we're trying to get you over to the Burrow for the last week or so of the summer. Finger crossed. Oh, and Hedwig has been hanging out here for a while, don't know what that's all about. Have a good birthday!_

_Ron._

The teenager immediately and meticulously opened the gift, which was of course a bunch of sweets and jokes from the twins' shop. Perhaps he'd have to try some of these out on Snape when he was in a particularly snarky mood.

**

* * *

**

July 1st

**- 7:32am**

Thank you again for the gift sir.

_It was nothing Harry._

Yes it was, even my family don't buy gifts for me for my birthday.

_They do not deserve to be referred to as your family._

They're all I've got left.

_Do friends mean nothing to you?_

Of course they do sir, but they have their own families.

_Indeed._

But they did send me birthday presents, and Hedwig came back.

_I'm glad._

She wasn't very happy with me though.

_I can imagine._

Would you like me to cook breakfast for you again sir?

_No Harry, it's your birthday, you do not do chores today._

Oh, okay then. See you soon.

_Indeed._

* * *

"I have just spoken with the headmaster via the floo."

"What?"

The two wizards had just finished breakfast and had adjourned to the sitting room. Harry's shock was evident in his voice.

"How did he know?"

"He doesn't know. He did express concern as to you whereabouts though."

"And you lied to him?"

"Of course not. I simply did not reveal more information than necessary."

"So he doesn't know I'm here."

"He knows you are not at your relatives house, however he does not want to raise alarm and he does not know you are here."

"Oh good."

"Indeed."

"Ron wants me to go to the Burrow for the last week of the vacation."

"Very well."

"You will let me go?"

"I cannot stop you."

"Well you - "

Severus held up one hand to silence the younger wizard. He did need to argue about what he could and could not make Harry do. Not on the boy's birthday, and certainly not before lunch.

"Draco will be coming early."

"What? When?"

"He will be here tomorrow morning."

"Great."

* * *

Harry had woken up from a terrific nightmare just a few minutes ago and was desperate for something, _anything_, to stop the pain. Everyone dead. Everyone blaming him. All his fault. He had to stop it. His hands fumbled around in the drawer beside his bed, searching, scrabbling. He felt a cold syringe in his hand and he grabbed hold, stumbling to his knees in desperation.

Light streamed in through his window, making his head pound. He squinted to see the liquid fill the syringe. What the hell was the time? He must have slept for ages. But then again, it had been a late night. He had stayed up until early morning drinking fire whiskey and losing wizard's chess to the dour potions professor in celebration of his birthday.

As the raven haired boy tightened his belt around his arm and searched for a vein, the sound of a door opening was lost to the teen's subconscious.

"What the fuck are you doing?" This was enough to catch his attention.

Green eyes snapped up to meet cold silver ones. He gasped slightly, his jaw dropping open. He had forgotten that the blonde would be arriving this morning.

"Get the fuck out!" He yelled in anger at the Slytherin.

"Well, well, well, the Gryffindor Golden Boy is a muggle drug user. Who would have guessed it?"

"Fuck off Malfoy."

"Sure, I was just going to see Professor Snape - "

"NO! Tell him and you're fucking dead."

"Why Potter? Why shouldn't I tell him?"

"Because you can't. Please Malfoy, don't tell him."

"You know Potter, I pity you. I truly do. You're just a pathetic fuck-up."

Harry dropped the syringe to the floor after plunging the drug into his vein. He leaned back against the bed, his head in his hands.

"You have the whole world waiting on you hand and foot Potter. Everyone worships the ground you walk on. Why would you fuck up your life like this?"

"You know _nothing_ about my life Malfoy. So don't you _dare_ pretend that you do."

"Whatever Golden Boy, your secret is safe… for now."

With that, the blonde aristocrat spun and stalked from the room. Most likely to figure out a way to blackmail Harry with the new information. Damnit. At least it had taken his mind off his nightmare.

* * *

Harry descended the stairs and entered the dining room where two wizards were already seated. He nodded to the older wizard and shot a warning glare at the younger blonde one before taking his seat. Lunch was a quiet affair, not the same as before that damn Malfoy had entered the manor. Why couldn't it go back to the way it was?

Guilt gnawed away at the stomach of the Gryffindor, leaving him with even less of an appetite than usual. He pushed his food around on his plate, barely taking even a few mouthfuls. He felt like shit. Sure, the drug stopped the pain at the time, and even now it was still pumping through his system. However the high had all but worn off and he was terrified. He was scared of what would happen if Snape found out, and even more so if it was Malfoy that told him. He was frightened of becoming addicted again, and even more worried about suffering through more pain-filled withdrawals.

"Please eat some more, Mr. Potter."

"I'm really not hungry sir."

"You haven't eaten anything!"

"Stay out of this Draco."

Severus caught Harry's green eyes with his own emerald ones. There was fear in the boy's eyes, or worry, or… something. He couldn't quite place it. He nodded once towards the full plate and watched the Gryffindor concede.

The rice tasted like sawdust in his dry mouth and the chicken was like polystyrene. He had no doubt that the food actually tasted excellent, but he couldn't taste a thing. After just a few mouthfuls, Harry put his fork down once more, shooting a pleading glance in Snape's direction. The man inclined his head slightly, allowing Harry to leave the table.

As soon as the boy was out of the room, Draco stood and glared at his godfather.

"What was that all about? Why are you being so nice to him? He's a spoilt brat and you're letting him get away with it."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply, closing his eyes. How was he going to survive with two rebellious teenagers, and enemies to boot, in his house for any amount of time?

"Just leave it Draco, there's a lot to Harry Potter that you don't know."

"Well tell me!"

"It's not my place do to so."

"Whatever." The blonde aristocrat stormed out of the dining room, his anger at being left in the dark evident in every fibre of the being.

Severus sent a quick prayer that his manor was still standing by the end of the summer.


	15. Touchy subject?

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, slight reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

**

* * *

**

**A/N**: No, Severus does not have green eyes, I think I'm slipping. No matter how many times I reread chapters, I still make mistakes. Also, the date at the beginning of the diary conversation was supposed to be July 31st, but it somehow became July 1st when I submitted it. Go figure. There were a few cosmetic-formatting errors in the last chap too, which is annoying, I will re-upload at some stage. Sorry folks.

If anyone has any ideas for what Harry's animagus should be, let me know.

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

* * *

The heavy oak bedroom door slammed open and cold silver eyes locked with emerald green. Harry had left lunch and since then had retired to his room, needing some space and time to think. So he sat on his bed, leaning against the headboard. His head was pounding. He had been staring at the drugs sitting on his bedside table and tossing up what to do. Sure, the hit felt great, but the guilt gnawed away at him, tearing at his insides. He knew what it felt like to be betrayed, and he didn't ever want to betray anyone, so why was he going behind Snape's back like this? After everything the older wizard had done for him.

The untimely entrance of the young Slytherin did nothing to help the throbbing headache that had formed just behind Harry's eyes. His watched suspiciously as the tall blonde crossed the room in just a few easy strides and stood, towering over the Gryffindor.

"What's going on Potter?"

Harry flinched slightly at the bitter tone to Malfoy's voice. His mind flashed back to the hatred that spewed from the throats of his relatives every time they spoke to him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Draco leant in close to Potter and grabbed the front of his shirt with his fist. How stupid did the Gryffindor think he was? There was clearly something going on, and he was not going to be dissuaded so easily. He hissed angrily at the smaller boy.

"Don't treat me like an idiot. Something has changed between you and Sev and I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

Harry grabbed onto the hand that held his clothing and desperately tried to pry the fingers away, age-old fear bubbling up inside of him. He mentally shook himself, this was Malfoy; he couldn't hurt him. Yet the fear lingered.

"Let me go Malfoy."

"Scared Potter?"

"You wish."

In truth, Harry was scared. He was scared of what the taller wizard could do to him. Although he knew, somehow, that this was _not_ his uncle, and that he _could_ fight back, that did not entirely quell the panic that was rising inside the dark-haired boy. His hands desperately fought the grip that held him; he needed to get away.

Draco stepped back and let the Gryffindor go, withdrawing his hands as if they had been burnt.

"I wouldn't want to touch a fuck-up like you anyway."

Relief flooded through Harry and he shifted backwards until he was at the far edge of his bed, climbing off it so that he was on level ground with the Malfoy heir, the bed a barrier between them.

"No more fucked up than death eater scum like you."

"I'm not a death eater."

"I believe you Malfoy, and Voldemort is not evil either."

Sarcasm dripped from Potter's tone and Draco had to smirk at that. He knew that most of the Hogwarts population believed that he was a dark wizard. He knew that and he like the way people were afraid to cross him. Power grew from fear.

"Why do you do it, the drugs?"

Harry raised one eyebrow at the abrupt change in the direction of the conversation. Why did the Slytherin care anyway? Why hadn't he run off and told Snape yet?

"What's it to you?"

"Well evidently you don't want the professor to know that you are taking them. So either you tell me, and I will know if you spin some ridiculous bullshit, or else I'll go and tell him right now. You are at my mercy Potter."

After mentally weighing up his options, Harry conceded. He didn't really have a choice. If Snape found out from Malfoy, well Harry didn't even want to imagine the consequences.

"Because when I shoot up, it's easier to forget all the bad shit that's going on, and just live in the moment. Have you ever tried them?"

Draco snorted. "God no. I would not touch that filth."

Harry smirked at Malfoy's close-mindedness. Trust a pampered pureblood to be so judgmental about something that he had never tried before.

"I gave you an answer, you can leave now Malfoy."

"Nice try Potter, but I'm not finished yet." He sat lazily on the edge of the bed, seeming very content, and almost cocky. Harry held back a growl of anger. Why couldn't he have some time alone?

"Why are you here anyway? You should be at home being spoilt by your doting family."

Something about the way people _assumed_ that his family was so adoring and loving made Harry's blood boil.

"Don't you _dare_ speak about my family, you know _nothing_ about them."

"Touchy subject Potter? I seem to have struck a nerve."

"Just leave me the fuck alone Malfoy."

With that, Harry fled from the room. His head was still pounding and he could feel his body trembling, whether from fear, anger or need for the drug, Harry did not know. But he knew that he needed to get out. Away from Malfoy, away from Snape, away from the heroin that was forever haunting him, taunting him.

As the great doors of the manor were flung open, Harry took a deep breath and allowed the warmth of the sun to thaw his frozen bones. Why was he always so _cold_? He ran from the intimidating building and onto the fresh green grass, reveling in its open freedom.

* * *

**July 1st – 4:57pm**

I don't think I can do this sir. He's just so irritating.

_You can do it. And you will._

Really sir, he asks more questions than you do!

_What has he asked you?_

Mainly why I am here and why you're being nice to me.

_You do not have to tell him anything Harry._

I know professor; I took a leaf out of your book and did not reveal more information that necessary.

_Very good. If you want to tell him though, there is no reason why you couldn't._

Malfoy is the last person I would ever talk to about that sort of stuff.

_You left the manor rather hurriedly this afternoon. Is everything okay?_

Merlin, you don't miss a thing do you?

_Not at all._

It was nothing, just an argument with Malfoy.

_I thought you said you were going to be nice._

I thought you were going to speak with him about being reasonable.

_He is a Slytherin; he won't make an effort unless you do._

He's a death eater; I'm not going to befriend him.

_He's not a death eater. He's not his father either. I'm not asking you to be friends with him, but I do expect you to be civil_.

It's not that easy sir, he –

_I am aware of that. However I think that if you stopped seeing him as his father –_

I am not going to get along with him.

_Do not cut me off Mr. Potter._

Sorry sir.

_Just try not to fight with him, please._

Alright, I'll try.

_Thank you._

* * *

"I had an interesting conversation with Potter this afternoon."

"Did you really Draco?"

"Yes. He got very defensive when I spoke about his relatives. In fact, come to think of it, he acted in a similar manner when I mentioned them this morning too. What's going on?"

"It is not my place to say anything."

"You said that earlier! Why won't anybody tell me anything?"

"I have asked that Mr. Potter stop treating you as if you are your father, I would appreciate it if you were to stop treating him as the boy-who-lived."

"What do you mean?"

"Just try to stop fighting with him, please Draco."

"Alright Uncle Sev. I'll try. No promises though."

"Thank you Draco."

* * *

Severus watched his young charge closely. The raven-haired boy seemed distracted. And he wasn't eating again. In fact, the boy seemed to have the shakes again. Hadn't the heroin withdrawals long since ceased? Perhaps not. He watched carefully as Harry finished one of the few mouthfuls he had taken and opened his mouth to speak.

"Are you animagus Malfoy?"

The young pureblood turned towards his godfather, unsure as to whether he should be revealing such information to the Gryffindor. The ex-spy inclined his head slightly, clearly giving Draco permission to speak freely.

"Yes. I completed the transformation for the first time this summer. Are you?"

Harry shook his head and looked down at his plate. He seemed to hesitate for several seconds before lifting his head once more to glance through his dark fringe at the potions master.

"Mr. Potter has requested that I teach him to become animagus. I have not yet had time to begin."

The young wizard seemed to relax at this slightly. Perhaps he had been worried that his professor had forgotten? Or even decided not to teach him after all? Whatever it was, the assurance that he was indeed going to teach him animagi seemed a welcome relief.

"Can I see your form Malfoy?"

Again, the blonde looked to Severus for guidance. As before, the man nodded his permission and Draco stood. He removed his outer robe and placed it over the back of his chair before closing his eyes to focus.

Slowly he began to transform. Pure white hair sprouted from his body and his face began to elongate into that of canine's. He dropped onto all fours as his limbs changed shape. A short whiles later and the transformation was complete.

Harry was still, his green eyes wide with awe. Before him stood a small, white arctic fox. It was perhaps thirty centimeters tall and could not weigh anything more than five kilograms. Truth be told, the animal was quite cute. There was an endearing quality to the thick white fur, black nose and startling silver eyes.

Suddenly, the fox began to change again and before long the Malfoy heir stood once more before them. He put his out robe back on and calmly took his seat. Harry was gob smacked.

"That was amazing Malfoy."

"Glad you approve Potter."

"Well done Draco, mastering animagi is a very advanced human transfiguration, and one to be congratulated for."

"Thanks Uncle Sev. I completed it under my mother's guidance though I studied it and practiced throughout the school year."

"And your form is perfect for your physical attributes."

"What do you mean by that Professor?"

"Have you done much reading on animagi Mr. Potter?"

"I have done a little."

"It is best if a person's animal form ties in well with their human form, both in physical attributes and personality. It makes it easier for the person to adapt to their animagus form."

"Oh I see, makes sense sir."

"Seriously Potter, you cannot expect to become animagus without doing a bit of study."

"I realize that Malfoy."

"Draco, Harry, please do not argue. Just finish your food. And I do expect you to eat Harry, you have barely eaten anything all day."

"Yes sir." Was the simultaneous response from both young wizards.

As much as it annoyed him, Harry kind of liked it when Snape noticed how much he ate. It was almost as if the man cared about him. Sure, eating was the last thing he wanted to do right now, but at least the professor noticed when he ate and when he didn't. Perhaps it would be nice to have someone who was concerned about his well-being after all.

* * *

Sensing a presence nearby, Severus lifted his eyes from the potions journal he was perusing and searched for the source of his interest. His dark eyes fell upon an extremely nervous looking Harry Potter hovering in the doorway to the sitting room. He motioned for the boy to come forward and sit down, knowing he was about to speak of something important.

Upon taking a seat, the boy simply wrung his hands apprehensively and seemed to be trembling quite badly. Was it from fear? Severus wasted no time in erecting some privacy wards and summoning a bottle of fire whiskey.

Once both wizards held a heavy glass of alcohol in their hands, Harry's still shaking, the boy seemed ready to speak. In truth, Severus was slightly concerned about what he was about to learn.

Before he spoke, Harry reached his hand into his pocket. From it, he withdrew the heroin that he had bought. He had only taken one hit of it; the rest was still there. But he knew the temptation was too great, he had to get rid of the drug before he came to rely on it once more. He tossed the drug to his potions professor; the man caught it easily, now fully aware of what it was and why the teen was so nervous.

"I'm sorry sir."

"Where did you get this?"

Severus' expression was unreadable, Harry looked away. The tone of voice that his professor used was sharp and unforgiving. Merlin, what had he done?

"I bought it from a friend and had it delivered by owl about two days ago. I took a shot of it this morning after a nightmare."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"I don't want… I can't stop, I have to stop."

The adult wizard raked his eyes over the form of the young Gryffindor. The boy looked terrified. He was shaking, though that could have been entirely drug induced, and he refused to meet Severus' black eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

"Completely fucked up."

"Language Mr. Potter."

The boy's head lifted now, confusion, pain, fear, guilt and much more swarmed in his green eyes. For a natural occulmens, he sure lacked control over his emotions.

"Sorry. I'm craving it. I didn't think I'd become addicted again after just one hit. I thought if I took it in moderation then it would be okay."

"Having relied on it in the past, you are more susceptible to becoming addicted again."

"I… I didn't know that."

"What was the nightmare about?"

Harry turned away once more, pulling his knees up to his chest and shaking his head slightly, as if pretending that it never happened would make it go away.

"You cannot shoot up heroin every time to have a nightmare, you need to talk about them."

"No."

"Was it Voldemort?"

"Sort of."

"Your parents?"

"Sort of."

"Your uncle?"

"Sort of."

"Please Harry, I can't help you unless you let me."

The Gryffindor took a long mouthful of fire whiskey, perhaps drawing his courage from the amber alcohol. He wrapped his arms around his knees and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he relived the dream.

"It was Cedric, and his parents. They were standing around me, telling me that it was my fault. And then Sirius was there, and my parents, and it was my fault. They kept saying that it was my fault. That I deserved it."

"Deserved what?"

"I was in a bed, tied down at my wrists and ankles. I was struggling but I couldn't get away. I didn't know where my wand was. And then Voldemort was there. He was saying it was all my fault. And that he could help me; he could make me better."

Severus' dark eyes watched as Harry shuddered at the nightmare that he was reliving. He waited patiently for the boy to gain a bit of control and continue, he was sure that was not the worst of it. How right he was.

"I said no, that I didn't want his help. I kept struggling against the ropes but they were too strong. And Sirius and my parents and Cedric were coming closer. It was my fault. They were not even real; they were ghosts. If it weren't for me they would have been real. And then he was there."

"Who was?"

"My… my uncle. He was laughing at me. Telling me I deserved it. And my parents and Cedric said so too. They said I deserved this. That I was filthy and useless and it was all I was good for. I kept fighting, my wrists were bleeding and it hurt so much."

"What hurt?"

"He… He was on top of me, I couldn't fight him, I couldn't do anything."

"What did he do to you Harry?"

"I cried out for help. But they kept saying I deserved it; that I deserved to be hurt. It was my punishment for killing them all. And it was true."

"No it wasn't Harry, it's not true."

The older wizard tried to speak to the Gryffindor, tried to help him understand that it wasn't his fault yet the boy was lost in his dream, lost in his memories, lost inside his own mind.

"And so I stopped fighting. I just let him. I didn't even try to stop him."

"What did he do to you?"

This garnered no response from the boy as he continued to shake, his eyes closed and body curled into a protective ball. Severus stood and walked towards the teenager. He pried the whiskey glass from unresponsive fingers and placed the alcohol on the table before turning his attention back to Harry. His reached a hand out to touch a tense shoulder, trying to cause a response.

"What did he do to you Harry?"

Emerald eyes suddenly flew open, full of fear and pain. The young boy leapt away from the touch and fled from the room, trapped somewhere between the past and the present and a dream world. Not exactly the response he had hoped for.

Without a second's delay, Severus followed. He could hear Harry's footsteps as the teen raced down the hall in the opposite direction to his bedroom. The tall Slytherin followed, trying to keep up with the confused boy.

At last, Harry stopped. Severus' breath came is gasps yet he didn't feel tired; adrenalin pulsed through his body. The young wizard had found a secluded room in which to stop. He immediately curled in a ball in the corner of the room, lost.

Severus walked slowly forwards, talking soothingly the entire time. He had never dealt with this sort of behaviour before and so did not really know what to do, but was following his instincts. A voice reminded him that following his instincts had got him into this situation in the first place, but the man pushed the voice away as he neared the figure.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry."

The voice was barely above a whisper yet the teen was chanting it again and again. Fear radiated from Harry as he rocked and shook in his panic stricken state.

Severus crouched down beside him, keeping up a steady stream of speech that was largely meaningless. He reached forwards and touched the boy who immediately cowered away. The man ignored the flinch and reached out with both hands. He pulled the child into an embrace against his chest. Said child fought him of course. Struggling madly against the grip, striking and punching and kicking wildly. Severus ignored it and held on, continuing to speak softly, calmingly.

After a time, Harry collapsed in exhaustion. His body and mind had been stretched to the limit, and now they had burnt out. Severus sighed with relief and held the teenager, unsure as to whether he had helped or hindered Harry's progress that evening. He picked up the much too light boy and carried him all the way to his bedroom, placing him under the covers and tucking him in.

After watching the steady rise and fall of Harry's chest for some time, Severus left the room. As much as he hated to admit it, he had come to care deeply about him. He wanted to help him, as much as he tried to deny it.


	16. He already knows

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, slef-mutilation, self-harm, references to child abuse, references to sexual abuse/rape.

* * *

**A/N: **Another chapter out. This chapter may be a little unexpected for some, the plot thinkens somewhat. An angsty chapter for all you angst-lovers. Tell me what you think.

**WARNING: **This chapter contains self-mutilation / self-harm and references to sexual abuse on a minor. Don't read it if you don't like it.

* * *

**August 2nd – 4.52am**

Why can't I sleep? Why can't he leave me the fuck alone? Even when I'm miles away, he still haunts me. He haunts my dreams. I wish I could escape him. I wish I wasn't such a fuck up. I wish I hadn't killed so many people. I wish I could be better. I'm sorry I'm like this. I don't mean to be this way. I want to be better. Please help me be better. Please don't hurt me anymore. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I know I deserve it. But I'm sorry. I want to be better. I want to be good. I'm sor–

_Stop Harry, breathe._

Oh shi –

_Nightmares?_

I'm sorry sir, I just… I needed to write.

_You are more than welcome to use your diary to write your dreams, it may help._

I don't need help.

_If you cast your eyes up the page, you will see that your writing belies that._

I was half asleep sir!

_Indeed. As you should still be. You may have some dreamless sleep tomorrow night if you need it, not every night though._

Why are you awake professor?

_That is hardly your concern._

So my night time habits are your concern, however I cannot ask about yours?

_Exactly._

Seems fair.

_Good night Mr. Potter._

I believe it is morning, but same to you sir.

* * *

**August 2nd – 7.52am**

What happened last night?

_You do not remember?_

I remember going to give you the drugs, and you asking me about…

_Yes?_

And then it's all a bit fuzzy after that.

_Do you remember what we talked about?_

Yes.

_What do you remember?_

I'd rather not talk about it sir.

_It will help you to talk about it Harry._

I talked last night, and it didn't help.

_You can't shut it out forever._

I can.

_Please don't._

I can't talk about it.

_You don't have to right now, but you should, soon._

Maybe.

_Let's go and have some breakfast._

Yes sir.

* * *

Harry was almost asleep on the couch. His eyelids were growing heavy and the words in the book on his lap were blurring into a black smudge. He blinked groggily and tried to focus on the words, to no avail. Why the hell was he so tired? He held back a frustrated growl and rubbed viciously at his tired eyes. He couldn't fall asleep; it was not even lunchtime!

Even as he thought it, Harry knew that unless he did something a little more constructive than revising charms homework, he was bound to drift into a peace-less slumber. And that was the last thing he wanted.

The timely entrance of a certain blonde Slytherin was _almost_ a welcome distraction. He lifted his eyes from the book to glare at the other boy through his dark bangs.

"Malfoy."

"Potter."

"Can I help you?"

"I doubt it, you can't even help yourself."

Harry rolled his eyes; honestly, Malfoy's taunts were getting tiresome. Couldn't he think of something a little more original? Evidently he couldn't. With his neck twisted to keep the Malfoy heir within his sights, Harry watched curiously as the blonde crossed the room and opened a large drawer. From this he retrieved a wizard's chess set.

"Wanna play?"

"Sure, I'm pretty terrible at it though."

Harry was telling the truth. He had only played the game a handful of times with Ron and had not beaten the redhead to date. He could never seem to get the pieces to do as he asked and even when they did, he played too defensively to ever gain the upper hand.

* * *

Severus strode silkily into the sitting room, expecting to find his godson there reading, alone. To his surprise, the potion's master came across a rather unexpected scene. Perhaps he was dreaming?

The two sworn enemies were played a game of wizard's chess in their potions professor's sitting room while trading relatively friendly insults.

The older wizard raised one eyebrow in wonder and stepped easily across the room. He hesitated momentarily when he saw the darker haired boy cower away from the sudden presence of another person in the room, however continued his gait after a half-second pause, allowing just enough time for Harry to lift his head and relax when recognition flooded his emerald gaze.

Severus surveyed the board, the black pieces, Harry's, were obviously all in defense but they were in decent positions even though the boy was a bishop and a few pawns down. The blonde was attacking ferociously, not giving the Gryffindor a chance to retaliate.

"Hey Sev."

"Professor."

The two boys greeted the man without lifting their eyes from the board. This was the best game Harry had played yet. Sure, he was losing, but not as badly as in the other three games that he had already lost in quick succession. He raked his eyes over the board, trying to figure out a way to save his rook _and _his other bishop without losing his queen.

After almost a minute of careful consideration, Harry thought he had it. He made to move his knight in but caught Snape's minute shake of the head out of the corner of his eye. He hesitated. Was that a subtle hint? Harry tried again, carefully weighing up his options.

A smile lit up his features as he realized what Snape must have seen several minutes ago. He spoke clearly to his pieces, grinning even more broadly when they obeyed without question. Sure, he had to sacrifice two pawns, but at least he didn't lose all of his good pieces.

Harry lost, of course. He was not half as good at chess as the blonde, who claimed to be the second best chess player in his house (only to Zabini apparently) and Harry had no doubt that he could give Ron a run for his money.

"It is time for lunch boys"

"Yes sir."

* * *

The two teenagers were in the Gryffindor's room. There was not a lot to do in the manor during summer so they were relaxing and talking rather amiably, to the surprise of both wizards. Draco was at Harry's desk, glancing at the scraps of parchment that Harry had used for rough drafts of his homework. Harry was sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard while picking lint off his top.

"So tell me, Potter, how is it that you became such an atrocious chess player."

"Oh Malfoy, I was letting you win, I wouldn't want to hurt your pride."

"You know I can see through your lies, Golden Boy."

"Don't call me that, Ferret."

"So are you finally going to tell me why you're here, or am I going to have to tell the professor about the drugs."

"He already knows."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Draco turned away from the desk to stare openly at the Potter boy. His shock was largely hidden by his pureblood façade, however a small amount of emotion leaked through the carefully constructed mask.

"You're telling me that my godfather is allowing you to take drugs?"

"No, I never said that."

"Well then?"

"I was addicted to them when I came here, he made me stop and got me through the withdrawals, I recently started taking them again but last night I – Why am I even telling you this?"

"Withdrawals?"

Harry turned away at this, drawing his knees up slightly and refusing to meet the eyes of the Slytherin boy. He was still shaking and his stomach was churning from not having the drugs, it had been over twenty-four hours since the single hit he had taken, but these withdrawals were not going to be anything in comparison to the last round.

"I was addicted to the drug, so naturally, when I no longer had it, I craved it."

"I know what withdrawals are Potter."

"No you don't. You may think you know, but you haven't got a clue."

"I know more than you think."

"No, you don't, you know nothing about withdrawals."

Draco shook his head in amusement at this. He turned back to the messy desk in front of him and picked up a quill before dipping it gently into a waiting inkpot. He elegantly began to write nonsense words on scrap parchment, allowing his hand to flow easily over the rough, pale surface. His eyes continued to rove over the desk, resting upon a leather-bound book. His hand movements stilled and he placed the quill back in its place, attention averted from his previous musings.

His slender hand reached forwards slowly as Draco made to grab the mysterious book. He knew it was not a textbook simply by the look of it. No, this book was different.

"Don't."

The Slytherin's hand paused in mid air, the sharp tone of Harry's voice made him hesitate.

"Leave it."

"What is it Potter? A _diary_?"

He smirked at this and grabbed onto the book, pulling it towards himself. He could hear Harry leaping off the bed and crossing the room so Draco hurriedly opened the cover, skimming his silver-grey eyes across the first few lines, reading out aloud.

"_Leave me dreaming on the bed, see you right back here tomorrow, for the next round.  
Keep this scene inside your head, as the bruises turn to yellow, and the swelling - "_

The book was snatched from in front of him, Draco didn't put up a fight. He spun around in his chair and grinned at the emerald-eyed boy who glared back in anger.

"What the _fuck_ was that Potter?"

Harry growled angrily at the other young wizard and turned away, returning to his bed but this time with his journal held possessively to his chest. He was angry. All right, he was passed angry, enraged, or perhaps furious would be a better word.

Fucking Malfoy! Why the fuck would he do something like that?

"Nothing. It was nothing."

Harry had just about panicked when the Slytherin had begun reading. His innermost thoughts, his conversations with Snape, everything would be revealed. And Harry couldn't have that. He couldn't have Ron or Hermione knowing that, least of all Draco Malfoy.

"Just get the fuck out of my room you bastard."

Harry flung the journal across the room at the door that had just closed behind the Slytherin. They were getting along fairly well until that. Stupid bastard Slytherin. Harry tugged at his dark hair in frustration, needing to vent. He got up off the bed and stalked across to grab the offending journal. As much as he wanted to tear out every single page and burn it, he also needed to write. After an internal battle, he decided on the latter.

* * *

**August 2nd – 3.17pm**

Your fucking godson is a fucking bastard. I hate him. Never ask me to be nice to him again. Ever. I would be happy if he went and jumped off a fucking cliff. Or if someone avada kedavra-ed him. Fucking cruel bastard.

_I would appreciate it if you refrained from insulting my godson and told me what has transpired._

He's a fucking lying piece of shit, that's what. I never should have let him in my room.

_Harry?_

He tried to read it.

_Read what?_

What the fuck do you think? My homework?!

_I can understand why you're annoyed. Did he read much?_

No, I got it off him before he could.

_Well that's alright then._

No it's fucking not!

_Calm down Harry._

Why should I? He had no right to touch any of my shit and even when I told him not to, she still did. And then he was just grinning at me. Sick, evil, cru –

_You will stop Mr. Potter._

Sorry sir, but he violated my privacy and I fucking hate him.

_Stop swearing._

You don't even care.

_I do care._

* * *

Harry threw the book across the room for the second time in as many hours. Trust Snape to take Malfoy's side. That'd be bloody right.

They didn't understand. So what if he hadn't read much? The intent was there. And if he had have read some of that... Oh Merlin. Harry felt ill just thinking about it. He could feel the bile rising in his throat, not just from the disgust at himself, but also from the withdrawals, the cravings for the drug. He was a filthy, worthless whore, good for nothing except a good fuck.

In a trembling haze, Harry stumbled to the bathroom where he immediately emptied his stomach into the ivory toilet. He was shaking badly, his need for heroin increased by his emotions.

"Worthless, ugly, filthy, disgusting, whore, slut…"

He mumbled the same words over and over as images of his past flashed through his mind. His mental defenses were shot to hell and his body was fighting the cravings and the exhaustion, he was a mess.

Staggering back into the bedroom, Harry crossed the room, searching for his potions knife. His quivering hands fumbled around on his desk, throwing things to the floor as he blindly searched for the blade.

Self-harm and self-mutilation was something Harry had enjoyed in the past. He had never tried to kill himself, but he found that seeing his filthy blood flowing from his body held a grim satisfaction that he couldn't find in anything else. He hadn't cut since he started on drugs, and now he couldn't have that, he _needed_ another release.

The Gryffindor returned to the bathroom, knife in hand. He locked his green eyes upon his reflection in the mirror, staring in repulsion and loathing at his own body. He pushed up his long sleeves, revealing thin, pale arms with slightly raised white scars marring the surface of his foul skin.

He gently touched his forearm with the sharp blade, tracing old scars without breaking the skin. A disturbing calm had settled over him, even though his mind still raged with emotions and memories.

After several seconds, Harry could no longer stand the temptation. He pushed down hard on the knife, watching in wonder and the blade pierced his skin and dark red fluids immediately covered the fresh wound, running across his white skin like a filthy dye. He traced another line up his forearm, reveling in the pain and the blood. He watched in the mirror, his haunted emerald eyes staring, transfixed at the blood as it ran down his arm and dripped from his fingertips onto the white tiles at his feet.

Changing his knife to the other hand, Harry slashed viciously at his other wrist, needing more pain, more blood, more release. His vision clouded and he could faintly hear what sounded like bells ringing, alarm bells? He took a last glance in the mirror, his eyes widening momentarily as they caught sight of Snape, and was that Draco? Or was it all just a dream?


	17. I do care

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, self-mutilation, self-harm, references to child abuse, references to sexual abuse/rape.

* * *

**A/N** It's true, it's been well over a month since I last updated. And I have nobody to blame but myself. My final exams are in just over a month and so I don't know how much I will be able to get done between now and then. I have _not_ abandoned this story and _will_ finish it as soon as I can, it may just take some time.

Twenty chapters looms closer and I don't believe I am any nearer to the finish line. I wish I knew where this story was going to end up. Time may go a little faster, hopefully. I think I've said that before and it never happened, ah well, we'll see.

I tossed up for a long time about where to go from where I left off last chapter. I had to make the gut-wrenching decision of whether to kill Harry and end the story or keep it going for a bit longer. You see, as much as I'd prefer not to kill off the main character, I realized something. When I started this fic, I wrote because I _needed_ to write. It was my escape, my release. And now? I write out of duty. I know I _should_ write to finish this, it's not because I_ want _to write. So that kind of sucks, for all of us. Here's what I came up with.

Oh, I proof-read the first half of this chappy but not the second half, so I apologise in advance for any grammatical or spelling errors.

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

* * *

Severus Snape, resident potions master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was preparing the extremely volatile Wolfsbane potion in his laboratory when a faint chiming threatened to break his concentration. He blocked the annoying sound out for a few seconds but it became louder and more persistent until it seemed to be reverberating through his skull. He tossed down his brass stirring rod when a sudden, disturbing realization struck the dour potions master.

Most ancient pureblood manor houses had certain wards in place to avoid injury of their inhabitants. Snape Manor was no exception. The wards did not exactly prevent any harm, many children had to be reprimanded over the generations, however they did allow the occupants of the house to be made aware when anyone was coming to harm within the walls of the great manor. The warning signals varied from family to family. In the Snape family, alarm bells sounded when a person was in pain and grew louder depending on the intensity of the pain. Having not heard the bells for many years, Severus had completely forgotten about their existence.

Upon recognizing the meaning of the irritating sound, the Slytherin man sprang into action. He spun and raced from the room, withdrawing his wand to tap into the elaborate wards and find the true reason for the deafening ringing. The intensity of the sound was so great that Severus knew that one of the young wizards under his charge was in grave danger. He headed up several flights of stairs, being drawn to the source by the wards.

* * *

Draco swore in anger as an unbearable ringing filled his ears and pounded through his skull. He tossed down the book he was reading and stood, as the sounds only grew louder. Wondering what the hell was going on, the blonde stormed from his room in search of his godfather. What he didn't expect was to see the stern wizard sprinting down the hall of his ancient manor.

"Uncle Sev!" Draco called loudly to his godfather, hoping to find out why the hell these bells were growing louder still. The man turned to face him; a slight wave of relief was just perceptible washing over the frame of the potions master.

"Where's Potter?" Was the sharp and urgent reply. The usually unreadable man seemed stressed, or perhaps even worried. Draco strode quickly towards him, concern filling his heart in the face of his mentor's own distress.

"I left him in his room. What's going on?"

This time, Severus did not reply. Instead, he spun on his heel and began to run again. His dark robes billowed out behind him as he darted up a flight of stairs, down the next hallway and flung open the door to the Gryffindor's bedroom. Draco hastened to follow, barely able to keep up with the older man's longer strides.

The scene that Severus' dark eyes fell upon was something he never wished to witness. After pausing only momentarily at the empty bedroom, the older raven-haired wizard had dashed into the adjoining bathroom, absently noticing that the ringing had faded as he had entered the room.

"Harry!?"

Fear laced the man's tone as he leapt into action. He had entered the formerly pristine room just as the teenager collapsed onto the floor. His head made a sickening crack as it hit the tiles. Upon fainting, the boy had dropped his knife, sending it spinning wildly across the floor until it came to rest against the wall leaving a disturbing smear of red behind it and a horrible pattern of blood across the walls where droplets had been flung off the rotating blade.

Severus dropped to his knees beside the teenager and immediately grabbed for the bloody wrists. He clamped his hands over the deep wounds, trying to stem the blood flow. His slender fingers easily wrapped around the thin wrists of the boy. With both hands being used, there was no way Severus could do much for Harry, he knew that if he let go of the pressure, the blood would continue to flow easily from the wounds.

"Holy fuck."

The Malfoy heir broke the momentary silence as he recovered from the shock of the nightmarish sight. This spurred the potions master into action once more, seeming to realize for the first time that he had his godson to help administer potions.

"Draco, please summon blood replenishers, blood clotting agents and antibacterials immediately. And bandages."

This garnered no response from the blonde.

"DRACO! Now!"

The young Slytherin seemed to visibly shake himself out of his reverie but instead of doing as his godfather said, the teenager rushed forwards and emptied the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl just meters away. He was shaking badly in shock and repulsion, his body retching involuntarily into the toilet.

"Draco, please, I need your help. Pull yourself together. If we don't hurry we are going to lose him. Blood replenishers and blood clotting agents."

After a few more seconds, Draco was able to stand a bit more steadily and made his way back over to his godfather. He took some deep breaths to calm himself before summoning the requested items.

Severus pulled the Gryffindor into his lap, squeezing the bleeding wrists tightly in a vain attempt to slow the blood that had covered his hands and was still dripping too quickly onto the floor. With a surprising calmness, the older wizard spoke clear instructions to the blonde boy, using him as a second pair of arms in an effort to save the bleeding youth.

Vial after vial of potion was poured down the boy's throat, largely blood replenishers. Severus could feel the flow of the warm, sticky blood slowing beneath his hands, hopefully due to the blood clotters workings, though it could have been the lack of blood in Harry's body as the majority of his bodily fluids were on the floor of the bathroom.

Removing his hands momentarily to wrap bandages around the abused wrists and murmur some healing spells, Severus sighed in relief and exhaustion. They were in now way out of the woods yet, however at least the wounds had stopped bleeding so profusely and the Gryffindor was still breathing, which was a victory in itself.

The man turned his attention to his godson, realizing for the first time how scared and sickened and stressed the teenager must be. Draco's complexion was unnaturally pale and he was shaking slightly. Severus lowered Harry onto the cold, bloody tiles so that he could stand and comfort his godson. As he stood, the professor mumbled some cleaning spells, clearing up most of the blood. Could the damn boy not stay out of trouble for more than twenty-four hours?

* * *

Grey eyes scanned over the slender frame of the Gryffindor teenager. His thin chest rose and fell evenly with every breath, although the movements seemed too slow and pained. The boy was still unconscious. Draco was watching him for any sign of a change. It had been almost two days and Severus had said that he should be awake by now, or very soon. His body had to slowly replenish his blood and also heals the wounds. Severus had also mentioned that he was unsure as to whether Potter had sustained a head injury upon fainting.

Just as Draco's eyes began to drift close, weary boredom overtaking him, the pale boy on the bed began to stir. His brilliant eyes flickered open, blinking owlishly into the bright light streaming in through the window. At that moment, Severus made his entrance. Noticing immediately that Harry was waking, the professor waved one hand to shut the curtains as he strode towards the bed.

A groan could be heard from the boy on the bed before said boy rolled over and curled into himself, clamping his eyes shut against the world.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Potter."

This was met with another groan.

"How are you feeling?"

The Gryffindor opened one eye to glare at Snape before opening his mouth to speak. His voice was scratchy and thin yet the infuriating reply came forth.

"I'm fine sir."

Severus just raised one eyebrow and reached for the boy's glasses and also summoned a small jug of water for his young charge. Draco, however, seemed shocked.

"Fine? You damn near died Potter! You are NOT fine!"

Harry's head was spinning. Even with the curtains drawn, the light seeping into the room was making his eyes burn and his brain pound angrily against his skull. His throat felt as though someone had taken a grater to it and even his legs felt funny, weak perhaps?

Shifting slightly, Harry attempted to place his hands beside him so he could push himself into a sitting position. Thus he was pleasantly reminded of why he was feeling like shit. Upon placing weight onto his abused arms, Harry gasped in pain and almost fell back onto the mattress. Stabbing pains shot from his wrists to his fingers then back up his arms towards his shoulders before fading to a dull ache. Gritting his teeth, the inky-haired teenager fought the pain and struggled into a sitting position, his back resting against the headboard of the bed. He turned his emerald eyes to the Malfoy boy.

"I was not _trying_ to kill myself Malfoy."

His voice was still raw so he absently reached for the glass of water, ignoring the thick white bandage that adorned his right wrist and forearm. Upon gulping down the water and avoiding the slightly disturbing gaze of his professor, Harry sighed and leant back against the headboard. This elicited a response from the dour man.

"If you weren't trying to kill yourself, Mr. Potter, then pray tell, what _were_ you doing?"

Silence followed this question as Harry turned it over in his mind. He couldn't really pinpoint an exact reason for his actions. Maybe he was trying to kill himself after all? No. He had no intention of doing that. Was it the need for drugs? The need to feel? Was it his anger at Malfoy? The betrayed feeling when Snape sided with the blonde? Perhaps it was the exhaustion of fighting, the exhaustion of living.

"I don't know sir."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean, I can't remember."

"Do not lie to me Mr. Potter."

Those haunting green eyes turned away, unable to hold the dark gaze of the potions master any longer. Said professor sighed and turned to his godson.

"Could you give us a moment please Draco."

The blonde did not reply but simply stood and left after casting an apologetic glace at the Gryffindor. He couldn't help but shoulder some of the guilt for what happened. For all he knew, he was the trigger when he read the diary.

"Please Harry, I need to know what caused it. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

"There's nothing wrong and I _don't_ need your help." The Gryffindor growled defiantly.

"Harry I found you lying in a pool of your own blood mere seconds from death. There is something wrong and I did help you."

"I wish you didn't." The soft, resigned tone of the child could barely be heard yet the silence that followed was deafening.

"Do you mean that Harry?"

With that, the boy turned away, curling into himself.

"Please sir, just leave me alone, and stop pretending to care."

"I can't do that Harry, and I _do_ care."

"Nobody else does."

* * *

"Why did you read it Draco? Was it just to anger him? To get a rise out of – "

"No Sev, it wasn't like that, I just – "

"Do _not_ interrupt me."

"Sorry sir."

"Actually, I don't care why you did it. I don't care what you were thinking. And I don't care how sorry you are. You shouldn't have done it and you will never pull a stunt like that again. Not in my manor, not at Hogwarts, not anywhere. Am I understood?"

Draco had seen his godfather angry before, he'd been on the receiving end of his tongue-lashings, but he'd never experienced such disappointment from the man before, aimed at _him_.

"Yes sir."

"The thing is Draco, the boy in there is not who you think he is. He's not pampered, he isn't spoilt, he doesn't enjoy his fame and he certainly doesn't think he's above everyone else."

"I'm beginning to realize that."

"Aside from that, a diary is a very personal asset and is not something to be joked about or taunted for having. If someone were to exploit _your_ secrets and innermost feelings, would _you_ be pleased? Just think before you act Draco."

"I'm sorry Uncle Sev, I don't know why I did it. I know diaries are personal and are not a joke, I – "

"Shut up."

Draco bowed his head in shame at his own behavior. Not only had he lost all hope of befriending the Gryffindor Golden Boy, who actually seemed half decent after all (not that he'd admit that to anyone), but he'd also angered and disappointed his godfather and inadvertently put one young Harry Potter into a coma. Well-done Draco.

"On the other hand, thank you for your assistance with administering the potions, I know it was a difficult scene to stomach and I doubt I would have been able to save him without another pair of hands. You composed yourself admirably."

The young Slytherin didn't reply but seemed marginally happier. With that, Severus stood to check on the Potter boy, unsure as to how to encourage him to open up.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes and was welcomed by the gentle darkness of the room. He could feel him stomach growling silently in hunger and at the same moment felt the presence of another in the room. He stilled his movements and let his eyes search, however he could not make out any human-shaped shadows in the room. Ever so slowly, the boy turned over, he eyes steadily adjusting to the darkness. As he turned his head, Harry locked his gaze with two shining, black eyes. He froze and tensed only to relax moments later as he recognized his potions professor.

Severus had been sitting by the bed for the past hour or so, watching the Gryffindor sleep and waiting for any signs of him waking. At last, he was rewarded for his efforts.

"Hello again Mr. Potter."

"Professor."

The older wizard waved one hand absently, bringing a relatively dim light into the room as to not overload the sensitive eyes of both men, but enough to allow them to see.

"I brought you some things that you may be wanting Harry."

Without waiting for a reply, the professor produced a battered leather-bound diary in one hand and a plate of steaming food in the other.

Harry smiled weakly and clenched his jaw through the pain in his arms as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He reached for the diary first, carefully placing it on his bedside table before taking the plate off Snape and proceeding to eat hungrily.

"I'm glad your appetite has returned."

This garnered no response from the teen; he was busy devouring the meal before him as if he had not eaten in months, which was so close to the truth that Severus did not even want to think about it.

"The plate will disappear as soon as you are finished, I will see you in the morning Harry. Goodnight."

"Goodnight sir."


	18. Apologies like cookies

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, self-mutilation, self-harm, references to child abuse, references to sexual abuse/rape.

* * *

**A/N** Another update already? I've outdone myself! It's short though, sorry, the action will be in the next chappy.

Thanks everyone for your inspiring reviews; they're what keep me writing.

For fear of spoiling this chapter, the long-awaited talk between Harry and Draco looms oh so close!

I think I've decided that I will wrap this up as the summer ends and leave it at a point in which I can add a sequel later if I feel the need. Not sure if it would be during the school year, the following summer or even if it will happen at all.

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

* * *

If one listened hard enough, a growl of frustration could be heard originating from the laboratory of one dark-haired potions master before a silencing ward was erected. Following this, all sounds were contained to that single room as said man threw his most recent concoction at the opposite stone wall. Unsurprisingly, Severus gained a small amount of enjoyment from the sound as well as the sight as the potions vial smashed and deep purple liquid spattered against the cold stones.

It had been one week, seven whole days, since the Potter boy had damn near died in his arms, yet nothing had changed. If anything, the brat was even less responsive and more reclusive than ever before. He had been released from the bed two days ago yet locked himself up in the bedroom and avoided both Severus and Draco at all costs. The older wizard had tried to speak to him, but the boy would turn away and ignore him. Needless to say, he was at his wits end.

He stormed from the lab and into his study, restraining his urge to smash everything in sight. How was he supposed to help the boy enough to get him back to school in less than a month when he couldn't even speak to him!?

Dark eyes landed upon the beaten diary that seemed to be the source of all his problems. He opened the diary to the last entry, the one from a week ago when Harry had said that his professor did not care about him. In truth, he could have handled that situation a little better. Okay, a lot better. He should have gone to the Gryffindor and spoken to him. He could have –

No point regretting that which he _didn't_ do.

He hadn't written in the diary since then, neither of them had. Severus was waiting for Harry to write first, to reach out. But the stubborn teenager would not. Just about all correspondence had been initiated by the younger wizard up until now.

Severus picked up a quill and dipped it into the pot of shining black ink, expertly positioning it over the page without allowing any droplets to fall onto the pale paper. He lowered his hand but hesitated before sighing and replacing the quill without writing a word.

It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to speak to the child. He just didn't know what to say, didn't know how to make things right again. Was it really up to him?

* * *

A knock sounded on his door and Harry sighed but turned to face the doorway as the heavy oak door slowly creaked open. A blonde head peaked through, obviously checking to see if the Gryffindor was awake before entering. Silver grey eyes locked with emerald green until Draco had to look away first.

"By all means Malfoy, come in, make yourself at home."

Sarcasm and anger bled from the raven-haired boy's words as he subtly hinted at the last time the blonde wizard had made himself at home in Harry's room and the incident that followed. Both boys knew it was a cruel attack on Harry's behalf, but the Gryffindor couldn't bring himself to care.

Draco pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped silently past the threshold before creaking the door shut behind him. He walked hesitantly towards the large bed and sat gracefully in the armchair beside it. He was silent for several moments.

"I am sorry Potter."

"What for Malfoy? Sorry for beating me in chess? Sorry for finding me near dead on the bathroom floor? Sorry for hoping I didn't die? Sorry for hoping I _did _die? Enlighten me Malfoy."

Once again that sarcastic bitter voice snarled at him. Draco lifted his head to look at the Potter boy before turning away immediately; he couldn't meet those haunted, betrayed eyes, not now.

"No. Not for any of those things."

Silence ensued. Seconds ticked by, punctuated by the tapping of Harry's fingers on the headboard as he waited, impatiently, for the blonde to finish what he was saying or get the hell out. Just has he opened his mouth to speak, and to tell the Slytherin to fuck off, the Malfoy heir broke the silence.

"I am sorry for reading your diary, but more so, for assuming that you are spoilt and pampered. For judging you on what the media say, not on who you are."

"Get the fuck out."

The blonde was surprised at this. He didn't apologise often, he was rarely, if ever, in the wrong and he had _never_, up until now, had it thrown back in his face in such a manner. With an angry sneer at the other boy, Draco stood and spun away, stalking from the room in a manner very much akin to one esteemed potions professor.

If Draco was surprised, Harry was gob smacked. He'd never even heard of the Slytherin prince apologizing to anyone and had certainly not expected it. He needed time to think, time to decide whether the other teenager was serious or not.

* * *

"I apologized to him Uncle Sev."

"Thank you Draco."

"Then he told me to _get the fuck out_."

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had been reading, rather contentedly I might add, for the last few hours until his godson had come waltzing in to ruin the atmosphere. Not that he didn't enjoy spending time with the young aristocrat; he just needed some time _alone_.

"Well, that sounds more like the Harry Potter we know all too well."

The blonde thought about this for a moment. It was true. A few weeks ago, that's exactly what the Gryffindor would have said to him instead of moping off to sulk in a corner, as was his custom of late. Well, anything's an improvement right?

"So can we go flying this afternoon?"

Having thought that the conversation was over, Severus had gone back to perusing his book. He sighed again and lifted his head to glare half-heartedly at his godson.

"Were you created just to annoy me during the summer?"

"Of course. So can we?"

"Who exactly are you including in this '_we'_?"

"Well I had thought Potter and I, but you are more than welcome to join us."

The youth smirked at his godfather, knowing that the man avoided broom travel at all costs and flying with the two teenagers would be at the very bottom of his priority list.

"I'd love to." Came the sarcastic reply as the man turned his attention back to his book.

"Uncle Sev! Can we fly or not?"

"You and Mr. Potter may go flying _tomorrow_ afternoon _if_ he is up to it. _Unfortunately_, I will be unable to join you as I have several potions to brew before the summer is over. I trust you have completed all of your summer assignments?"

"Of course I have, they were all dead easy except for yours, which was impossibly hard I might add."

"Indeed?"

"All the other teachers just assign us revision from the year but you make us do an entire research project – "

"I am well aware of the homework that I assign Draco, I am the one who has to mark it."

"Well why do you bother?"

"Because seeing you fret over it is the highlight of my year."

Draco shook his head in amusement. He was unable to tell whether or not his godfather was serious, and was not going to hang around to find out. He walked quickly out of the room knowing he had an entire day before he would have to enter the lion's den and approach Potter again. He wasn't scared of the Gryffindor; he just wasn't up for being cursed at some more.

* * *

**August 10 – 11.08am**

He apologized to me professor.

_Indeed. He had already given me a headache in his quest to inform me._

Does he mean it?

_Mr. Potter, a pureblood wizard does not hand out apologies like cookies. I assure you, his apology was entirely sincere._

And how does he know that I am _not_ spoilt and pampered, as he has always believed me to be?

_You are not the best actor in the world Mr. Potter; I assume your behaviour gave you away._

Well I had you and everyone else fooled for long enough.

_Indeed_.

1) What happens when we go back to school?  
2) Is Malfoy the pampered prince I see him as?  
3) Do you know the alphabet backwards?

_Is it your turn?_

Yes.

_How do you know?_

I remembered.

_1) I teach potions and you lose points for Gryffindor, as per usual.  
2) Partially. He is, of course, a pureblood and as rich as Midas. However he is not exactly smothered with love from his parents.  
3) No, what an idiotic waste of time._

But they don't hurt him?

_Draco is not abused in the same way you are._

I'm not abused.

_Not anymore._

"Ah, Mr. Potter, you finally decided to grace us with your presence."

"Good morning to you too professor."

It was the first morning in over a week that Harry had managed to leave his room and eat breakfast (or any meal) in the dining room with Snape and Malfoy. He had not been incapable of venturing downstairs; he simply refused to. Instead, he would receive food from the house elves but barely touched any of it. In that respect, this morning was no exception.

Black eyes watched alongside grey ones as the Gryffindor pushed his food around his plate. The fork barely made it into his mouth more than a few times yet he seemed to give off the illusion of eating. He would push the food around and occasionally lift the fork to his mouth before pausing to engage in conversation. Following this, he would return the fork to the plate without having consumed any of it. It was a brilliant ploy as it was kind of assumed that he had, in fact, eaten. Were Severus not an ex-spy and a Slytherin, he may not have even noticed.

On this occasion, he would not mention it. The potions master would allow the self-starvation to go on for a bit longer in order to give Harry a chance to redeem himself. Perhaps this was a once off? Severus knew that that was wishful thinking.

Harry didn't _purposefully_ starve himself. He wasn't trying to lose weight. He just wasn't hungry. Food had always been related to so many punishments that his body rejected the mere thought of eating any more than a few mouthfuls for fear of being punished. It wasn't something he could control and his stomach was small anyway from years of forced dieting. He didn't need much to survive.

* * *

A knock sounded hesitantly on Harry's bedroom door. He turned away from his desk, snapping his diary shut even though he had not yet written an entry on the page it was open to. He turned towards the door to meet the eyes of the Malfoy heir.

"Can I help you Malfoy?"

"We need to talk."

"I think we've talked plenty."

"I don't."

"You forget, I don't give a fuck what you think Malfoy."

"Shut up Potter and stop swearing."

"Go to hell."

The blonde however, would not leave. He stepped further into the room, seeming to have gained newfound courage in the face of Harry's anger. He sat lazily on the edge of the Gryffindor's bed before speaking.

"Your relatives… Did they abuse you?"


	19. Are you a virgin?

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, slight reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.

* * *

**A/N:** Another chapter out in quick succession. There is a long conversation between Harry & Draco in this one so I put Draco's speech in _italics_ so that you can more easily work out who is talking. I know Snape seems to be playing less of a role in the story right now, but he is still my favourite and will play a bigger role in the next few chapters.

I will reiterate that this story will **not **be slash. Not DMHP and certainly not SSHP (not that I don't love those slash combinations).

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

* * *

_"Your relatives… Did they abuse you?"_

Harry's head snapped up at this, eyes angry and expression guarded. How dare the Slytherin prince barge into his room and demand to talk about such stuff! The black-haired boy immediately schooled his features into indifference before replying in a relatively calm tone, in spite of his rage simmering just beneath the surface.

"I hardly think that that is any of your concern Malfoy."

He let a small amount of anger bleed into his controlled words, just to let the Slytherin know that he was in a dangerous mood.

_"Oh come on Potter, you get all defensive when anyone suggests that your relatives spoil you, you flinch at sharp sounds, you're a drug addict and you're staying with Professor Snape during the summer. I could draw my own conclusions, but something is clearly not right."_

Harry clenched his jaw to stop himself from flinging angry magic at the Malfoy heir. Damn him for being so observant! He lifted his right hand and ran it through his inky hair, tugging at the thick strands in frustration.

"I told you. It's none of your business. You've been drawing your own conclusions about me for your entire life, why change now? I have no reason to tell you _anything_ after what you did. Just leave me the fuck alone."

_"Look, I apologized for reading your diary, and Sev already gave me a severe tongue lashing as well – "_

"I don't care. FUCK OFF."

_"I do care."_

"Why? Why does everyone pretend to give a shit about me? Nobody has bothered to in the past. I don't need you help; I don't need anyone's help. Get out of my room and get out of my life."

_"You do need help. Look at yourself! You're so completely fucked up and you don't even know it. You don't eat, you don't sleep, and you don't talk to anyone. Not long ago you almost killed yourself. You're one big fucking train-wreck if you ask me."_

Both boys were breathing hard from yelling at one another. This is not what Draco wanted to do, but he knew that unless someone gave the kid a wake-up call, he was going to die. And as much as he didn't particularly _like_ the Golden Boy, he certainly didn't want him dead. Besides, who would finish off old Voldemort if Harry Potter died?

"Why would I tell _you_ anything?"

Harry's expression was guarded, he'd never told anything to anyone, let alone the like of Draco Malfoy. And what's more? He wasn't about to start now.

_"Because Potter, you've got nothing to lose by telling me. You won't lose a friend if you tell me, you won't gain an enemy if you tell me, and I'm a pureblood with an image to uphold, so I'm unlikely to go to anyone saying 'guess what Harry Potter told me'. If anyone found out that I were consorting with the likes of you, my reputation would be ruined."_

The Gryffindor pondered this for a short while, sitting in silence. It was true; he couldn't deny that. Everything the infuriating blonde said was true. He lifted his eyes and met the steely grey ones of Malfoy.

"Alright, I have an idea. I'm not giving you anything for free. So I tell you things, and you return the favor."

Draco blanched a bit at this. There was a lot in his life that he kept secret, for good reasons. But then again, if this was the only way to get info out of Potter, he was willing to take his chances.

_"Deal."_ He inclined his head slightly in a nod of agreement before shifting further onto the bed to lean against the headboard. Harry stayed where he was, at his desk, waiting for the blonde to begin his interrogation.

* * *

Mandrake root was dropped carefully into the bubbling potion. A slender hand stirred the pale orange concoction carefully, watching it slowly darken to a deep burnt orange. He then added a pinch of sparkling unicorn hair, stepped backwards as he did so to avoid the splashes as the ingredients reacted. The color changed again to a dark red and then purple before Severus stirred the potion again. After a few more moments, the Slytherin ladled the liquid into vials and labeled them carefully before placing them on the shelf. He only had one more batch of stomach-settling potion to finish for the infirmary, and then he could rest easy for the remainder of the holidays.

Severus' mind strayed to the Potter boy staying in his manor. He needed a way to encourage him to talk about his problems without losing the teenager's trust. And he needed to get the damn Gryffindor to eat before he faded away to nothing. So much to do, so little time.

* * *

_"Okay, how is this going to work Potter?"_

Harry smiled at Draco's question. The _game_ that they were about to play was very similar to that which he had played with Severus through their diaries. The only real differences were the number of questions (one each round instead of three) and the fact that they were speaking, not writing.

"It's quite simple. You ask me a question, I answer _truthfully_, and then I ask you a question. You do not _have_ to answer the questions and you do not _have_ to discuss your answers, however the way you answer questions will be reflected in the way I answer questions. Get it?"

_"Alright. Can I go first?"_

"By all means."

Harry wasn't sure he actually wanted to do this. He knew he didn't have to answer any questions, but by refusing to answer, the truth can generally be inferred anyway, it was a double-edged sword really.

_"Let's start with something easy then. What do you want to do after you finish school?"_

"I haven't really thought about it, but I suppose I'm expected to become an auror."

_"You don't have to be what they want you to be."_

"What do you want to do?"

_"Maybe become a potions master like Uncle Sev, but I doubt I'd be good enough. I'm also pretty interested in curse-breaking."_

"Ron's brother Bill is a curse-breaker at Gringotts."

"_Lovely."_ Draco's reply was dripping with sarcasm and Harry smirked at him in amusement. His smirk however, rapidly faded as Malfoy asked his next question.

"_Did they ever hit you? Your relatives I mean."_

Harry looked away, afraid of answering but knowing he had to if he wanted answers from the taller youth.

"Yes. Do you agree with the dark lord's vision for the wizarding world?"

"_Not entirely. Who hurt you the worst?"_

Draco hoped that by giving evasive answers, Potter would be forced to give better answers so that he reciprocated.

"My uncle was the worst. My cousin would hurt me fairly regularly but not so badly, and my aunt just ignored everything unless it effected her in some way."

Much better.

"Are you going to become a death eater?"

_"I'd rather not bow down and be an inferior slave to a crazed dark lord, but I may not be given a choice."_

"You've always got a choice."

"_Did you choose to be abused?"_

"No, that's different."

"_How?"_

"It's not your turn to ask."

_"Yes it is, you asked if I wanted to be a death eater, now it's my turn."_

"No, you then asked me if I chose to be _abused_."

"_That wasn't a proper question!"_

"Shut up Malfoy, it's my turn."

_"Fine."_

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

"_I have."_ He was unwilling to elaborate on this one. Yes, he had killed someone, but it was not his choice and he felt guilty about it every day of his life since the occurrence. Albeit he had no doubt that he would have to kill again to _prove_ his loyalty to the dark.

_"What's the worst injury you've ever sustained, courtesy of your uncle?"_

"I have no idea, I never had anyone explain my injuries to me."

"_You mean; you never had them treated." _It was spoken as a statement.

"Yes. Has your father ever hit you?"

_"No, never. Why did you cut yourself?"_

"It was a number of things. I was craving the drugs, I was angry at you, I was angry at Snape, I was angry at myself, I couldn't stop thinking about my uncle and what _he_ did to me."

The boys were flinging questions at each other rapid-fire and were answering just as quickly, neither had a chance to think about what they were asking nor what they were answering.

"Have you ever purposefully hurt yourself?"

_"Not like you, only punching walls in anger or frustration. Are you a virgin?"_

Harry was thrown by the sudden change in direction of questions. He was also unsure of how to answer that one. In the physical sense of the word, he had not been a virgin for a long time, but he'd couldn't say he'd ever _made love_ to anyone. Love was a lie anyway.

"No. Are you?"

_"I'm not. Whom did you lose your virginity to?"_

Green eyes widened and the shorter wizard turned away from the blonde. This one he couldn't answer, not today, and probably not ever. He shook his head in silent refusal and moved immediately on to another question.

"What's your opinion of muggle-borns?"

Draco was surprised by Potter's refusal. Of all the questions he'd asked, he'd actually expected an answer to that one. The enigmatic Gryffindor was evidently full of surprises.

_"They're not as bad as I make them out to be. Squibs are far worse, a disgrace. Muggleborns do help to bring new blood into the wizarding world, however because they do not have a strong, dominant, pureblood heritage, they tend to dilute the magic in the blood and so most children from muggleborn witches and wizards are not as strong magically."_

"I'd never known that. I mean the bit about diluting the magic."

_"Dumbledore tends to keep it under wraps. What's your best memory/experience to date?"_

"The day I learned that I was a wizard. What's your worst?"

_"The day I told my father that I didn't want to be a death eater. Needless to say, he was unimpressed."_

"But he's never hit you?"

_"He's a wizard Potter, he doesn't need to use his fists to inflict pain."_

"He cursed you?" The shock was evident in the Gryffindor's voice; it was obviously not something he had even considered.

_"It's not your turn. When did your uncle become abusive towards you? "_

"For as long as I can remember. How often does your father curse or hex you to cause pain?"

_"Thankfully, it has only happened on one occasion. Does Sev know what your uncle did to you?"_

"Mostly. He took me from there this summer, which is why I am here. Does he know that your father hurt you?"

_"Yes, he was unimpressed. Does you uncle ever do anything more than beating you?"_

"Yes. Does your father dislike the professor since he found out that he was a spy for the light?"

_"No, family loyalties run deeper than that. What else does your uncle do?"_

"Starves me, locks me up, hits me with his belt, among other things."

Harry did not elaborate on what these _other things_ were and Draco knew better than to ask, they simply moved on.

"What is your mother like?"

_"Distant. She cares enough to ensure that I am the perfect Malfoy heir, but nothing more. Are you into guys or girls?"_

"Guys. Do you like your friends at Hogwarts?"

_"I can't stand Crabbe and Goyle, useless oafs. Pansy is the clingiest, ugliest wench I have ever laid eyes on. On the other hand, Theo and Blaise are great. Do you prefer butterbeer or pumpkin juice?"_

"Firewhiskey."

_"That wasn't an option!"_

"Who cares? Would you rather spend a day with Dumbledore or Mad-eye?"

_"Mad-eye. Would you rather get drunk with McGonagall or Hooch?"_

"Hooch. Would you rather do Colin Creevey or Ginny Weasley?"

_"Neither."_

"Choose!"

_"Fine, Creevey. Which of the Weasley's would you do?"_

"Either Bill or Charlie."

_"Which one?"_

"Charlie I guess. Would you rather – "

"Chicken or lamb for dinner?" A silky voice cut in. Harry spun around to see the potions master standing elegantly in the doorway. He flashed a grin at the man and answered immediately.

"Chicken."

"I knocked, but there was no reply." Severus eyed both boys and raised an eyebrow, knowing that they had been too engrossed in their conversation that they had not noticed the knocking on the heavy door. He was, however, pleased that they were conversing without too many arguments and the both seemed quite happy truth be told.

"Come into the dining room. It is time to eat. And yes Mr. Potter, we are having chicken."

* * *

**August 12th – 10.56pm**

Are you awake sir?

_Of course I am._

I talked to Malfoy today.

_I noticed._

No, I mean I really talked to him, about important stuff. And you were right; I think it helped.

_I'm glad you did Harry, you seem much happier._

I think I am. And I think maybe I can tell you some stuff too.

_Only when you are ready._

Not tonight, but maybe one day soon.

_I'll look forward to it. And I'm very impressed that you two are getting along a lot better._

Yeah, you were right about that too, he's not his father.

_I'm always right Mr. Potter; you should know that by now._

Sure you are.

_There is only just over two weeks left of summer vacation. I assume you will be leaving for the Burrow in ten days or so?_

I'm not sure. Ron hasn't confirmed that I can go yet.

_I see. Dumbledore has probably not confirmed it yet as he does not know where you are. I should fire-call him and let him finally know that you are safe._

I can't go back there sir.

_Of course not Harry, I would not allow it._

He'll make me go back if you tell him where I am.

_No he won't. He would never knowingly send a child into an abusive household._

He already has. And you cannot tell him about what the Dursley's do. You just can't.

_Why not? It would mean that you don't have to go back._

He already knows that they hate me. It wouldn't make any difference if he knew the extent of it. Please, sir, don't tell him.

_I will keep your secrets, but I have to let him know where you are._

Please don't, he'll make me go back, I know he will.

_I will not allow it. Now go to sleep._

Please don't tell him.


	20. Lemon drop?

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, references to sexual abuse/rape.

* * *

**A/N:** So it's been about six weeks since my last update. This one is quite long though and I am now finished exams and school!! (as of nov 12th). I should be able to update a bit more frequently now, although I think the fic is almost finished. This chapter has not been proof read as I am rushing to get it out to you. Upon completing the fic, I will go through and repost chapters with mistakes. Sorry!

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story so far. I don't get time to reply to all reviews (particularly the more recent ones as I have been busy with exams). If you have an unanswered question and you had put it in your review from last chapter without a reply from me, please put it in the review for this chapter and I will reply to it (I can't go back and reply to all those old reviews!) I do appreciate all of your reviews and I try to respond to as many as possible.

On a less happy note;; if you are unsure about something that I have included in a chapter. Please check the author's note as I tend to explain things that I think may be confusing. If I do not answer it there, _then_ PM me or review the story about it. I will not answer questions that are answered in the author's notes.

Anyway;; enjoy!

* * *

Sinister black eyes watched as grass from his lawn, as green as the eyes of the boy who held it, was torn from the ground only to be dropped in a rapidly growing pile next to the youth's left hip. Severus had been keeping an eye on the Gryffindor for almost an hour now, although the boy had only just commenced the destruction of his potion master's lawn. He had flooed to the headmaster's office early that morning to discuss Potter's lodgings and had finally managed to get away from the interfering old wizard an hour ago. He was yet to speak to his young charge. The conversation with the headmaster had been… interesting.

* * *

"_Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts!"_ Severus had called before sticking his head into the green flames that danced in the fireplace. At the same moment, a flicker of movement caught his eye in the corner of his vision. He turned his head slightly to the left as the heat-less flames licked about his face. His dark eyes watched a small figure with raven-colored hair and emerald green eyes dart from the family room that housed the only fireplace connected to the floo network. Damn, he'd hoped the Gryffindor wouldn't be awake yet. Not that he was keeping the meeting a secret from the volatile teen; it would just be easier if Harry didn't know exactly _when_ it was happened. Severus knew the boy would stress about it for the entirety of his potions professor's absence.

"Severus my boy! Come through, come through."

Dumbledore's cheery greeting was almost enough to make Severus shut down the floo connection immediately. However, he removed his head from the fireplace and stepped gracefully through into the man's office.

"Good morning headmaster." The stoic man inclined his head slightly in greeting while flicking his wand to remove the soot from his dark robes.

The headmaster merrily waved his wand, conjuring a garish yellow sofa and motioned to it, blue eyes twinkling continuously.

"Sit down Severus. Must I remind you every time that you may call me Albus? Lemon drop?"

The potions master scowled and flicked his own wand, turning the furniture into a black leather armchair before elegantly taking a seat.

"No thank you Albus, I am not here on a social visit."

The twinkle dimmed only slightly before returning almost immediately, full-force as the irritating man popped one of the sweets into his mouth. If anyone could unsettle Dumbledore, it was Severus.

"Well then, what brings you out of your heavily warded manor today? I tried floo calling you several times but was unable to get in."

"The only way to access the manor is through portkey or if the floo is initiated from the inside, you know that Albus."

"Ah well, can't blame an old man for trying."

"I am here to discuss a student."

"Ah yes, which student is on your mind today?"

"Harry Potter."

Severus couldn't stop the smirk that graced his features as the twinkle in the old man's eyes dimmed considerably. If he were not so concerned for the child, he would actually gain a lot of pleasure out of making the old wizard sweat. Unfortunately, he did not have the time, nor the patience. Not today.

"What is it that you wished to discuss about Harry?"

"It has recently come to my attention, that his summer lodgings may not be… _appropriate_."

"I know they are not ideal, but you must understand my boy, they are his only living blood relatives."

"Surely you could find more suitable accommodation for everyone's favorite savior." Severus stated dryly, allowing sarcasm and disdain to enter his calm tone.

"He has to stay at his relatives for blood protection."

"Not if _they_ kill him before the death eaters get a chance."

"Really Severus, they are his family, they would not harm him."

Severus narrowed his eyes dangerously and stood, barely controlling the rage that simmered just beneath his barriers. He strengthened his occlumency shields, trying to regain more control over his anger. How could the headmaster be so blasé? Particularly when the very future of the wizarding world likely rested upon the shoulders of the student in question. His voice was quiet but deadly.

"Don't you _dare_ pretend that family means love, you know as well as I – "

"Sit down Severus! If you are adamant that he cannot return to his Uncle's house, then I will have to find somewhere else for him. There will be problems passing it by the ministry though."

The old headmaster stroked his thick white beard for a moment, deep in thought. His eyes were no longer twinkling and he was far from smiling. Although he had not yet admitted to it, Severus was aware that they both knew the truth about the boy's current lodgings.

"Albus you know he has not been there for a month and the ministry have not noticed."

"I assume he is at your manor?"

"Of course. I would not allow him to suffer in an abusive household, golden boy or not. And I will not allow you to return him there either."

"I don't think it is up to you Severus."

"He needs help Albus! The mangy mutt that was his godfather is dead and he blames himself – "

"This is a war, he needs to understand and accept death as part of it."

"He's a child!"

"He's never been a child."

Both men were standing now and although neither raised their voices, the tension was evident in the air around them. Both powerful wizards could feel one another's angry magic snapping in the air around them. Severus regained control first and reigned in the dangerous magic and took his seat, the headmaster following suit.

"He will be staying at Snape manor until you find a more appropriate solution Albus."

The old wizard sighed. He looked at his young employee with grim acceptance. He had gained a lot of control over the powerful potions professor after the man had come to him begging sanctuary from the Dark Lord. But the younger man had repaid his debt through his spying and no longer owed the headmaster anything. Both wizards were fully aware of that fact.

"Alright Severus. Please take good care of him for me. I will let you know when I have found an alternative."

Severus stood and nodded curtly to his former mentor. With that, he turned and silently crossed the room to the door. The headmaster had lost a lot in the war, and the majority of the public relied on the old wizard to lead the light. Severus didn't think he was capable of feeling sympathetic towards Dumbledore, but he did recognize that he was in a precocious situation. He placed a slender hand on the doorknob and opened it slowly before turning back to face the other wizard.

"He's changed Albus. He will no longer allow you to manipulate him. He is a consummate actor and will be a dangerous weapon, but he will only fight for the side that he believes in. I will not shape his beliefs, and I will not coerce him to fight, however I will do my best to guide him down the correct path. Be very careful Albus, you've pushed him away and betrayed his trust. He may not be so willing to return to you."

With that, the dour man stepped his slim figure through the door, closing it softly behind him before activating his portkey back to Snape Manor.

* * *

A movement close to the house caught Severus' eye. He watched as his blonde godson walked swiftly across the lawn and approached the Gryffindor. Even from his distance, Severus noticed the tensing of the boy's shoulders as a potential threat neared him. He kept his eyes trained on the smaller form as it slowly relaxed in recognition. Would he boy never be completely relaxed? Would he always tense at the presence of others?

It seemed like mere minutes but it was surely over an hour before Draco left and began the short walk back to the manor. Harry stayed put, enjoying the outdoors and the freedom. Severus sighed, knowing that he would have to go down and speak to the boy soon. He had no excuse now. Not that he had bad news, it was more the fact that Harry was still so far from the confident child he had perhaps never been, but to the naked eye, had seemed to be for so long. How had he kept up the charade for so long without so much as a tiny crack to allow Severus' sharp eyes to notice? How had he hidden his fears for what seemed like an eternity?

* * *

Now that he was looking for it, Draco noticed the way Harry first tensed at his presence before relaxing once again, though not completely. His shoulders were still held stiffly and he kept Draco in his range of vision at all times. The blonde let his eyes flicker of the form of the young boy who lay on his back in the grass. He had one arm above his eyes, shielding them from the sun so that he could watch Draco; while the other arm ceased it's destruction of the grass and rested across his abdomen. Thick, white scars stood out starkly against the slightly tanned skin on the wrist that was raised to protect his eyes. Draco traced their outline with his own grey-blue eyes, slightly disturbed by their presence.

"Sev probably has a potion that would get rid of those."

They both knew that which he was referring to, it required no further explanation. Draco lowered himself into a sitting position near Harry, while the Gryffindor sat up and looked down at his arms in his lap. He was silent for a long moment, gently following the thicket scars on his left wrist with the slender fingers of his right hand. He didn't look up when he spoke, so quietly that Draco had to strain to hear.

"He offered, but I don't want it. I can glamour them if and when I need to."

Draco didn't reply. He sat in silence for a while. He could only try to imagine what life must be like for everyone's Golden Boy. Not only was his mistreated at his _home_, but he also suffered under the watchful eye of the media constantly. How they had not managed to get a whiff of the abuse, Draco did not know. But he was glad for it. Image the uproar if that got out. Harry's family would be crucified, and Draco knew they deserved it, but he also knew that Harry would object. His only living family…

"When do you go home?"

Harry broke the silence. The question was innocent; he wasn't even implying that he couldn't wait for the blonde to leave.

"Probably within the next day or two. I've been here almost two weeks already. I usually stay for two weeks or so."

"Just you and the professor?"

"Yeah, it's better than just me and my parents."

"I suppose. What do you do all day here when I'm not around or cause havoc?"

Harry flashed a grin and Draco shrugged back at him.

"Well usually that's my job. But you're doing pretty well so I thought I'd stand back and spectate this year. It's much more fun."

"Hmmmm. Perhaps if you joined in we could drive the professor insane before the summer is over."

"You have a point…"

"Actually, I could probably do that on my own."

"I don't doubt it Potter."

* * *

After the departure of the Slytherin boy – who was becoming more and more likeable by the day – Harry thought he would be able to have the afternoon to himself. This, however, proved to be too much to ask. As Harry's eyes fell upon the approaching form of the potion's master, he stood and was immediately on guard. The man had spoken to the headmaster that morning, Harry knew, and was sure that he was about to be taken back to his relatives' house.

"I'll just go pack my stuff."

Harry spoke, before Severus could even open his mouth, and moved to step past him towards the manor.

"Stop Harry."

Severus intoned as he placed his hand firmly on the boy's slim shoulder. Harry immediately pushed the hand away and stepped backwards, in a manner very much akin to the way he had when Severus had taken him from the Dursley's house earlier that summer. This time, however, he remained silent.

"You're not going anywhere Harry."

"What do you mean?"

The green eyes were full of hope, yet also held depths of disbelief and uncertainty. He didn't want to get his hopes up only to have them come crashing back down.

"I spoke to the headmaster. He agreed to allow you to stay until something else can be arranged."


	21. Filthy, tainted blood

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, references to sexual abuse/rape.

* * *

**A/N:** This one's short but the next one will be out fairly quickly so do not despair! I decided it was time for an update that comprised of only diary entries. That and I wasn't particularly keen on writing the departure of Draco. I don't think there would have been tears and hugging anyway [winks]. For information about the revelations in this chapter, see the A/N at the end of the chapter, I didn't want to ruin it by writing it here.

* * *

**August 14****th**** - 7.17am**

Professor, are you there?

_Good morning Harry. Lucius Malfoy contacted me this morning. Draco will be returning home after lunch, he's been here two weeks now._

Oh.

_What's on your mind?_

Do you think…

_What?_

When we go back to school. Will he hate me again?

_He doesn't hate you Harry. He never did._

He has always treated me like shit, and you know it.

_You gave it back to him though Harry. Don't forget that._

Will we be enemies again?

_I think that's something you need to discuss with Draco._

He's the only person I've ever admitted it to.

_Admitted what?_

What my uncle does. And my cousin. How they hit me.

_They didn't just hit you though Harry. There was more wasn't there?_

I… They didn't let me eat.

_Not at all?_

Sometimes I got to eat. My aunt would give me some bread - enough to keep me alive.

_Is that why you don't eat much even now?_

No. Well, maybe, sort of.

_What do you mean?_

If my uncle caught me with food... He – he didn't like me eating. He liked it when I was skinny.

_So he would abuse you if he caught you?_

Not _abuse._ He would just hit me and stuff.

_I know you don't like to admit it, but hitting someone is considered to be aubse. Saying it doesn't make you weak Harry, it makes you stronger._

I used to think my bedroom was a sanctuary. I thought when I was in there he would leave me alone, that I was safe when I was locked in my room. Even if I was hungry, it was okay because at least he wasn't hurting me. It was my place away from all the hatred.

_What changed?_

He – he came into my room one night, well a lot of times acutally. I thought he was just going to hit me. But I don't think he did. I think something worse happened.

_What happened Harry? What did he do to you?_

I – I don't know. I can't remember. I wish I could remember. But it's all blank. I try to remember sometimes – I relive it. I need to know what happened. I need to be sure. I remember the first time it happened the clearest. I remember him coming up the stairs and instead of walking past to his room, he stopped at my door. I remember the sick feeling in my stomach as I heard the locks sliding open. He smelt of alcohol and it was so dark in my room that I could barely see his outline in the doorway; growing bigger as he approached me. I can remember backing away, cowering like a weak _child_. I can recall every damn thing about the room, the feel of the mattress beneath me as I scrambled backwards, the cold of the wall behind me, the sound of his footsteps and his heavy, alcoholic breath. Why the fuck can't I remember what happened next?

_What's the next thing you can remember?_

Waking up. Bright light through my window. And pain. Lots of pain. Everywhere. Like my whole body was on fire. And blood. All over the mattress beneath me. It hurt my ribs to breathe. What happened in between? Why can't I remember what the fuck happened to my body?

_Do you think maybe you passed out?_

No. I didn't pass out. I know I didn't pass out. I would know if I'd fainted - it's happened enough times. It's like the memory is gone. Like I've been obliviated but he's not a wizard – he can't do that. I don't fucking understand! I've tried to access it. I search through my memories. I try to find it but it's not there. Just any empty blackness.

_Maybe you cannot remember Harry, because you do not want to remember._

But I do! More than anything I wish I knew excetly what happened. It's not just once. I have plenty of blanks in my memory. Mostly from in my bedroom, the same situation but subtle differences. I always woke up in pain and I wasn't sure why. Why the fuck can't I work this out? I know mind magic for fuck's sake!

_Maybe if I used legilimancy I could find out._

No. No. You're not going through my mind. I can't – I won't let you. No. There's too much there. I can't have you -

_Okay Harry, it's okay, I won't. I'd never do that without your permission._

I just… I want to know why. And I want to know what happened to _my_ body.

_I know you do Harry. I'm sorry._

* * *

**August 14****th**** - 11.25pm**

_Did you speak to Draco about going back to school before he left?_

Yeah… sort of.

_'Yes', not 'yeah'._

Whatever.

_And did you sort it out?_

Not really. We both agreed that with our reputations, we couldn't really change the way we act towards each other. But maybe we can find another way to stay on good terms outside of classes. It's a bit… messed up right now. But we'll sort something out. Maybe we could meet up in one of the towers at night. Or in the room of requirements. I don't know.

_I'm glad you're sorting something out. He could be a good ally in the war. What about Weasley and Granger? Are you going to tell them about your... eventful summer?_

I don't know. I think I should. But…

_But what?_

Well. They wouldn't like it. They wouldn't like that I spent the summer at your manor. They wouldn't understand. And that I got along okay with Malfoy. They would think I'd lost my mind. And that I mostly get along okay with you. They'd think you'd brainwashed me.

_Do they know about the drugs? And the cutting?_

No. Of course not. I'm everybody's favourite pin-up poster boy, Professor, didn't you know?

_I know much you revel in your fame Mr. Potter. Imagine how many interviews with Witch Weekly and the Prophet you would get if you let it leak that you were a heroin addict. The wizarding world wouldn't know what to think._

They would so. They would think that heroin was good and the whole world would become addicted. Except perhaps, some of the muggleborns. Hmm… maybe I should send some to Voldie.

_I think he's insane enough without the drug._

Good point professor.

* * *

**August 15****th**** - 8.02am**

What's going to happen when we go back to school?

_You'll ruin potions in my class and I'll take points from Gryffindor, I've told you before…_

Does this mean nothing to you?

_Of course it does Harry. But you know I can't treat you any differently, just like Draco can't._

Why not? You're not a spy anymore. You don't have to act like such a bastard all the time.

_I am a bastard Harry; it's not all an act._

No you're not. You'd like to think you are, because it's a good cover. But you're a big softie really.

_Very funny Mr. Potter. Strangely enough, I don't think that the rest of the wizarding world shares your opinion of me._

* * *

**August 15****th**** - 8.56pm**

_Do you still crave the drugs Harry?_

Sometimes.

_When?_

When I think about bad stuff. When I try to remember stuff that I can't. When I feel like hurting myself. When I think about the prophecy and my purpose. And about the people I've killed. And about the –

_You haven't killed anyone Harry._

Okay. When I think about the people who've died because of me.

_I don't know how I can convince you that deaths throughout the war are not your fault. It's a war: people die._

What about the people who have died on Death Eater raids? Do you blame yourself?

_My situation is a little different to your's Harry._

How?

_Because those people had nothing to do with the war._

Everyone is part of the war Professor, whether they choose to be or not, muggleborns, half bloods and muggles alike.

_Most of the people I killed were not an active part of this war. They didn't even know about our world._

But they were a part of the war anyway, and you shoulder the guilt for their deaths.

* * *

**August 16****th**** - 3.52am**

Are you awake professor?

* * *

**August 16****th**** - 4.57am**

_I am now._

Do you have anything that will get rid of nightmares?

_Do you never sleep?_

Sometimes I do.

_Why didn't you say something earlier?_

I don't know. It didn't occur to me to ask.

_You can ask for help sometimes Harry, it's expected._

I didn't want to annoy you.

_You can have some dreamless sleep tomorrow night. Due to its addictive ingredients, you cannot have it every night. I could give you a sleeping potion more often, but not dreamless ones._

Thank you sir. I don't want a sleeping potion though unless it will stop the nightmares. I don't want to be trapped in any.

_What are your nightmares about?_

Sometimes my relatives. Sometimes the people I've killed. Sometimes my friends dying.

_Every night?_

Yeah, most nights.

_'Yes', not 'yeah'._

Yes. Most nights, I kind of avoid sleeping as much as possible.

_What do you do instead?_

Here I read or I go for a walk. At the Dursley's I would get out of the house and get drunk, or high, or both.

_You should try to sleep Harry._

I'd rather not.

_Are they that bad?_

Worse.

_The first time you tried drugs. What happened? How did it start?_

Well I didn't start on smack; it came later. I used to drink a lot to keep my mind of other stuff. Then I got into smoking weed. It kicks in quicker and lasts longer than alcohol. I used to do ecstasy every now and again when someone had pills.

_And the heroin?_

This summer was the first time I tried it. I needed something stronger, the alcohol and mull wasn't enough. When I pass out from alcohol or drugs… it's like taking dreamless sleep. I'd seen heroin around at raves and contacted some people whom I knew I could get it from. I had to get a friend to shoot it up for me the first time – I couldn't hit my vein. It was amazing. It's like you're flying and nothing can touch you. I began to use it more and more often, higher doses each time. It's easy to get addicted.

_How did you pay for it? I'm sure your family didn't give you money._

Hahaha, of course not! If they knew how rich I am they'd probably treat me better in the hopes of me leaving it to them when I am killed in the war. Not likely. It'll be going to people I love. Anyway, I would withdraw money from Gringotts at the end of each summer to pay for my school supplies – I just made sure I had enough to last the entire year each time.

_If given the opportunity, would you take them again, the drugs?_

I don't know. A month ago I would have said yes, without hesitation. Now I'm not so sure. It's great you know, the feeling. But it's a bit out of control. I know that while under the influence, I couldn't protect myself if Voldie decided to make an appearance, let alone protect my friends.

_That's what the order is for. You don't have to do everything yourself._

They haven't helped me fight Voldemort yet; I don't expect them to start now. Every single time, I've been alone.

_Your friends have been there most of the time._

Yeah, but they don't fight Voldemort. I do.

_'Yes', not 'yeah'._

Sorry sir.

_What about the cutting? How did that start?_

A lot of my friends used to cut. It's a good way to feel when everything seems so numb. And it's a good way to punish yourself when you've killed someone. And it's nice to see your filthy, tainted blood leaving your body.

_Your blood is not filthy, nor is it tainted._

I used to cut just a little. Enough for it to hurt, for the blood to run. But then it didn't seem to work anymore. So I would cut deeper. I didn't try to kill myself I swear. I just needed to cut. I wouldn't be so selfish as to kill myself. I have a dark lord to kill first.

_I believe you. Try to go to sleep Harry. It's going to be breakfast time soon._

I'd rather stay awake then.

* * *

**A/N:** You may think Harry being unable to remember what happened to him is unbelievable, but I assure you it in entirely possible. Yes, he does realise that he's been raped. He just doesn't want to believe it. He doesn't know, because he CAN'T remember it. He can work it out by the pain and blood when he awakes. The reason he can't remember is to do with memory and forgetting. Motivated forgetting (repression in this case) is an unconscious process that occurs when someone blocks a memory or experience usually due to it being traumatic. It's a form of self-defence. Harry cannot remember what happened because he is unconsciously blocking the memories as a way to defend himself – it's painful for him to relive the experiences. The memories are there, in his mind, however he cannot access them right now. Don't believe me? Do some research.


	22. I hate you

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, references to child abuse, references to sexual abuse/rape.

* * *

**A/N:** Another shortish one, but I think that getting them out quickly makes up for it. Okay so I have a bit of a dilemma as to where I am going to take this story next. I have done some thinking and have _decided_ that I **will **be finishing this story at the end of Harry's summer vacation – I won't continue writing into the school term. I **will** be writing a sequel after that (which will either be school or I'll skip that and go straight on to next summer?). For this story, I can't decide where to take it, so here are the options:

(1) Harry comes to terms with his repressed memories over the next two weeks and has Severus to help him through it as he begins to remember them (causes a dramatic strengthening of their relationship).

(2) Harry comes to terms with his repressed memories during the school year (if the sequel is set at school) – there are many outcomes for this one (cutting, alcohol/drug abuse, telling Draco, telling Ron & Hermione, telling Severus, etc. etc.).

(3) Harry comes to terms with his repressed memories during the school year (if the sequel is set in the summer). This would be like the above one but being set after the school year would mean that a lot of the diary entries would involve Severus finding out stuff that happened during the year, too late. I'd also have to decide where Harry is to stay for the summer. Hmmm.

(4) Harry never remembers what happened – either doesn't want to (too traumatic) or else due to head injuries from his uncle (disruption during the consolidation of the memories) is never able recall them any more than he can now.

Let me know what you think. I'm leaning towards number 2 or 3… or if you have any other ideas, let me know. For now… on with the story!

Sorry if you don't like this chapter, but I needed to rock the boat a little ;)

* * *

_Harry,_

_You are to stay where you are for the remainder of the summer. I cannot chance moving you to the Burrow due to recent dark activity in the area. I'm sure you know what I mean, if not you should ask your host. The Weasley's have been informed. Take care Harry and see you in September._

_Albus Dumbledore._

* * *

Harry snorted in amusement and scrunched the parchment into a ball in his right hand before tossing it back to the potions master who sat across the table from him.

"Care to enlighten me about this 'dark activity' sir?"

Severus rolled his eyes at the teen and flicked his wand, watching as the parchment burst into flame before disappearing completely. The headmaster did have a knack for being completely blunt when the situation merited it, and even when it didn't.

"He seems to conveniently forget that I am no longer partaking in these 'activities' and so have no idea what he is talking about."

He watched the boy, surreptitiously monitoring the amount of food that the still too-thin teen actually consumed – barely enough to satiate a ten year old. Would he ever get to live a normal life?

"I could use your assistance this afternoon in the lab if you do not object?"

Harry grinned as he looked up. Although potion making had been something he dreaded for most of his school life, he liked it when he could make them without fucking up too badly. And the few he'd made with Snape over the summer had actually been decent. It was rare for the man to offer him a chance to join in.

"Really sir?"

"Only if you finish all the food that is in front of you."

Okay, so blackmailing the boy probably wouldn't gain his trust, but it may help him gain a few desperately needed pounds. He watched as the youth looked doubtfully into his bowl of fruit before meeting the dark gaze of his professor once more.

"I'll try."

* * *

"Tell me, Mr. Potter," he paused, "where in the instructions does it mention _boomslang skin?_"

Severus' voice was a low, angry hiss as he grabbed Harry's thin wrist before the boy dropped the ingredient into the simmering cauldron of pale pink liquid. The Gryffindor withdrew his hand sharply, twisting out of the grip of his professor as if he had been burnt.

"I – I'm sorry sir."

The boy looked tired, stressed, distracted. Severus raked his dark eyes over the petite frame of his young charge, sighing softly before turning away. The youth needed a decent night of sleep and a hearty meal in his opinion. He flicked his wand to send the ingredient back to the store cupboard and once more to banish the potion entirely. There was a soft gasp of despair from the dark-haired boy who stood just a few feet away.

"I'm sorry sir. Please let me finish. It was an accident."

"No Harry, I'm sorry. You are too tired, you can't focus. It would be irresponsible for me to allow you to make potions right now. There will be a dreamless sleep potion by your bed. Please take it and get some sleep.

"I'm not a child! It's mid afternoon, I'm not going to sleep."

Harry's voice rose in anger and color flooded his cheeks as he argued. His brilliant green eyes flashed. Severus turned again to face him, lowering the flame under his own cauldron with a wave of his hand as he did so. Glittering black eyes met emerald, rage storming through both although the voice of the potions master remained soft, deadly.

"Harry, I'm not doing this to upset. I don't want you to get hurt by carelessness."

"No! I want to finish. I can do this."

"Not today you can't. Go to bed."

"You can't make me."

"Yes I can. Go!"

"No. Let me finish."

"You are not finishing the damn potion!"

"Why are you doing this? I hate you!"

Severus was only just holding onto his temper, by a thread. How dare this impudent boy challenge his authority? He clenched his jaw, hard, mere inches away from losing control and physically hurting the Potter brat. The words that flung from his mouth were regretted as soon as they reached the open air. But the damage had already been done.

"Get out of my sight you worthless, ignorant, ungrateful boy."

Something flashed in those haunted green eyes as soon as the words sunk in – and it wasn't anger this time. Harry flinched, as though he'd been struck, before turning and fleeing the room without a second glance backwards.

* * *

The door slammed shut behind the teenager, leaving Severus alone in the laboratory. The sound of the heavy door rang loudly about the room, reverberating through his skull, punctuated by the silence that clung to the sound as it dissolved into the still air. Severus bowed his head in shame, lowering his face into his hands as his own words echoed through his mind. The tall, slim man fell into a kneeling position on the cold stone floor, brought down to his knees by the disgust he felt directed towards himself.

His potion hissed loudly as it boiled over and ran down the sides of the copper bowl and into the flame dancing carelessly beneath it. Severus remained unaware. His entire mind was consumed by the cruel words he had spat at the boy who had just began to trust him. Ruined. Just like his potion. Only this was much more important to him than any potion.

He stayed like that for a long time. It could have been hours, or perhaps only minutes. He seemed cut off form the march of time as he replayed the scene in his head over and over, dissecting it and hating himself for the words he'd uttered in anger. For someone who prides himself in having total control over his entire mind, losing his temper like that was crippling. Moreover, he had inadvertently destroyed the fragile thread of trust that Harry had weaved between them – a gift.

* * *

Green eyes, messy black hair, pale skin. Snape was right. He was worthless. Worthless and filthy and _tainted_. Harry picked up the knife that he'd rested on the bathroom vanity, finally drawing his eyes away from his own abhorrent reflection in the shining mirror. He let his emerald eyes rove over the silver blade, drinking in the release that it could provide.

Was it all a lie? Their diary conversations, their three-questions game, their relaxed banter. Was it all just a ploy to get Harry to trust so that he could hurt him even more? Was Snape always secretly disgusted by Harry's worthlessness, by his ignorance, by his stupidity?

Did he force Harry through withdrawals just to cause him pain? Did he poison him and then rescue him in order to win his trust? Was he still a spy? Was he ever a spy? Was it all a lie?

Harry eyed the blade as he drew it over his scars – softly, not to cut, just to touch. He traced the newer scars, the deepest ones. Then further up his arm, to the crook of his elbow. There were scars here too, so many that he could barely see blue veins beneath. The scars of his needles, his drugs, his addiction; the scars of his past. He placed the knife back onto the vanity and placed his slender hands on the edge of the bench, leaning forward to bring himself closer to the mirror. His eyes locked with his twin, how he wished he could leave himself behind, in the mirror, and never have to face Snape again.

He turned away from the repulsive image of himself, staring endlessly back at him. He turned away only to knock the silver knife into the sink. He hesitated before spinning back around to grab the knife in his right hand, refusing to lift his head to stare as his reflection once again. As he reached the door, he couldn't stop himself. He turned back to lock his gaze with the emerald ones of his twin – his reflection. With a cry of anguish, Harry flung to blade at the mirror, watching with satisfaction at its heavy silver hilt made contact with the glass, shattering it into a thousand pieces. With that, he left the bathroom, satisfied.

* * *

**August 17****th**** - 11.23am**

LIES

* * *

**August 17****th**** - 6.03pm**

_No Harry, I have never lied to you._

Cut the crap Snape. I don't want to hear it.

I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't mean it, none –

F U C K . O F F .

_I am truly sorry Harry._

* * *

Harry ignored the loud knock on his door. Even when it swung open, he didn't lift his head to meet the dark eyes of his potions professor. But he did speak. He had a lot to say to the man after all.

"Leave me alone."

"I won't Harry."

"Don't call me that. You don't have the right."

"Please listen to me."

"No. You're just like _him_."

The answer was immediate, and full of fury, tinged with betrayal. Finally, the Gryffindor lifted his head and Severus was shocked by the look in those haunted green eyed. He'd been expecting anger, disappointment, sadness, and a myriad of other emotions. What he saw was complete blankness. No emotions swarmed in the emerald depths. The boy had completely closed himself off – afraid of being hurt. He would not let anyone know how he felt, he would not let anyone in; it was the only way to ensure he was not betrayed… again.

"I will talk anyway, you don't have to listen."

Harry turned away again, refusing to give the man any of his attention.

"I have never lied to you, I promise you that. I never meant to hurt you either. Never. What I said… I didn't mean it. You're not worthless, or ignorant, or ungrateful. Please believe me, H-. Please believe me. I know you hate me right now, and I know I don't deserve anything from you. But I need you to know that I am sorry. I never meant what I said. It's not true."

Severus only just held back from saying the youth's name. He didn't want to anger the boy again. He stood still for several moments in the doorway, but it was apparent that Harry was not going to respond. Severus sighed lightly before turning away, to return to his room and brood no doubt.

* * *

**August 19****th**** - 7.59pm**

_I'm sorry sir._

Whatever for?

_For what I said to you, for arguing with you, for yelling at you, for angering you, for ruining the potion, for swearing at you, for saying you're just like _him_._

No Harry. I deserved all of that, and more. You were right.

_No sir, you were right._

What do you mean?

_What you said. It was true._

No, no it wasn't. None of it.

* * *

Severus held back as gasp of shock as he entered the dining room the following morning to see the Gryffindor Golden boy already seated. He walked slowly to take his own seat, all to aware of the green eyes that tracked his every move. The tension in the air gave way to the fact that Harry was poised for flight. One sharp movement from his professor, and the boy would be gone – Severus knew it. He gently and gracefully took his seat opposite that of Harry, trying to project calmness.

"Good morning."

Harry dropped his eyes to his plate and began to shred his napkin – evidently very nervous. His voice was barely above a whisper when he replied. Severus had to strain to hear it.

"Good morning sir."

The older wizard flicked his wand and food appeared between them. Fruit and yoghurt for Harry, as usual, and an English breakfast for the professor. Severus, ever the spy, noticed the way the young wizard waited until his professor had started eating before moving to begin on his own. meal He noticed how the youth failed to actually consume much food. And he noticed how although Harry had once been relatively comfortable sitting opposite his tall mentor, he now cautiously watched his every move, not letting his guard down for even a second.

As soon as both men had eaten as much as they were planning to – a full meal for Severus and a few mouthfuls for Harry – Severus cleared his throat to speak.

"If you could please join me in the sitting room. I think we need to talk."

"Yes sir."

Severus led the way, knowing that there was no way Harry would walk in front right now, having someone walking behind him could very easily set off the panic button that his fingers were already trembling too close to. Once they were seated in the plush leather armchairs that adorned the sitting room, Severus hesitated, unsure of how to even begin.


	23. Animal instincts

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters, I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary:** Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore, but when he writes in it, he receives a response.

**Warnings:** Swearing, drug abuse, references to child abuse, references to sexual abuse/rape.

* * *

**A/N: **It makes me laugh when I get a review telling me how bad my story is and when I go to reply the reviewer has not logged in and not left an email address for me to reply. Especially when they appear to have only read the first chapter. Coward. Thanks.

Sorry this update is so late, but it is long. I had a bit of trouble deciding where to go. I had a different chapter written but decided it was too sappy and too OOC so I started over. I know my characters are quite OOC anyway, I try to keep them a little canon yet still twisted to my own likings. Anyway, enjoy.

Oh, and I think I'm going to do a mixture of a few of the ideas/options I suggested in the previous chapter.

* * *

I guess there should be something calming about an open sitting room decorated largely in deep blues and creams with hints of black. It should put one at ease to be seated in plush leather armchair with a heavy glass of whiskey in one hand. Unfortunately for one Harry Potter, this was not the case. Yes, he was seated in the black chair with the comforting alcohol in his right hand, but he was far from relaxed. His potions professor, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease.

Contrary to Harry's observations, Severus Snape was far from the calm exterior that he was emanating. Now that they were seated, he didn't really know where to begin. Some, okay _most_, would frown upon giving alcohol to a teenager just after breakfast – so much for setting a good example – however Severus found that it helped. Especially considering that the boy had been drinking for a long time and doing much worse. Whiskey was mild compared to what really calmed Harry Potter down, little did the general public know!

"I know I've said it again and again. And I will continue to say it until you understand. What I said to you in the potions lab – it was out of line. It wasn't true, none of it, and I am sorry that I said it."

Harry took a long swig of his amber whiskey, deep in thought for a few moments. He turned these words over in his head, as he had a hundred times since the man first apologised. The problem was; what was he to trust? How many things had Snape said that weren't true? It was the older wizard who eventually broke the silence that reigned between the two wizards.

"When you said 'I hate you', did you mean it?"

Green eyes snapped up to meet black at this question. It was the only way Severus could see to explain his mistake – he needed Harry to admit that he had done the same thing. Here's to hoping the boy didn't truly mean what he said, if he did, then Snape's argument would be fucked.

Again, Harry was silent for a long time. So long, in fact, that Severus was sure he would not answer. It was an important question to Harry. Did he hate him? Or did he just hate the way he was being treated at that moment? He finally spoke, his words so soft that they were almost lost to the still air that surrounded the two wizards. Unsurprisingly, Harry did not address the question at all.

"What you said… it – "

"I didn't mean what I said." Severus cut in.

" – it was just like _him_." The younger wizard ignored the man's words as he continued.

"I thought - I thought that maybe you cared about me, maybe I could trust you a little. But – "

"I do care about you, you can trust – "

"You're just like everyone else. You - _they_ pretend they care, but it's all a fucking lie. They make me trust them and then they hurt me again. Once they get to know me, they wish they didn't. I'm not going to let that happen anymore. Stay the fuck away from me. You're just like everyone else."

Harry was standing now. His breath was heavy, his clenched fists were shaking with poorly suppressed fury and his eyes were flashing pools of emerald – burning with rage and betrayal. He stood still for several moments and then, without warning, the Gryffindor let out a whimper of pain between his clenched teeth and sank to his knees, both hands immediately moving up to grasp his head.

The older wizard instantly rushed forwards, shocked by the sudden turn of events. What the hell was wrong with his young charge now? Could the boy never get a damn break? He could see that the emerald eyes were squeezed shut, as if to block the pain by refusing to see it. Blood dripped down the boy's chin from where he had bitten his lip to stop himself from crying out. Severus moved in behind the boy's thin frame and wrapped his arms around him, lending silent support. He helped Harry to stand and half-carried him to his bedroom, laying him down on the soft bed before addressing the problem.

Harry had not yet spoken a word. His hands still held his head at the temples and his eyes were still shut. The boy was shaking violently and seemed to be struggling against an unknown, unseen enemy. Severus summoned a pain relief potion, a headache reliever and a dreamless sleep, although his could not really administer any of them until the youth was more aware – it would not do to give potions when one was unsure of the situation.

After almost ten minutes, Harry seemed to relax, his body going limp on the bed. The potion's master reached over to try for a response but before his slender hand could touch the boy's shoulder, Harry rolled away to the edge of the bed and began to vomit, his body heaving as his meagre breakfast was dumped onto the floor beside the bed along with an unhealthy amount of stomach acid. Finally he seemed finished as he slumped against the bed with a pitiful whimper, completely exhausted from his struggle.

Severus let Harry relax for several minutes to regain some composure before he made to rouse him to administer healing potions. The teenager responded to his name and blearily opened his eyes, clenching his teeth against the pounding headache that raged in his skull. His emerald eyes, full of self-loathing and disgust as well as pain and distrust, locked with Severus' cold, black ones.

"He – he… I couldn't stop him. I tried to but he wouldn't stop."

Comprehension flashed in the Slytherin's dark eyes; he'd remembered. He'd remember some of what he couldn't. Severus' voice was soft when he spoke.

"What did he do to you Harry?"

The young wizard shook his head and turned away, unable to say the words, unwilling to even think about it. A cool vial was pressed into his hand. Harry eyed it uncertainly and the master rolled his eyes.

"It's a headache reliever. I'll try not to poison you."

"Thank you sir."

A sigh of relief escaped the youth's lips as the potion kicked in, alleviating some of the pounding in his temples. Another potion was handed to him and Harry took it without question – he'd had the dreamless sleep potion enough times to recognise it by its color alone.

* * *

**August 20****th**** - 6.37pm**

It was just like I could remember. Only this time, it didn't end at the same spot. It just kept going. He had me cornered. I couldn't stop him. I was pleading with him – begging him to stop, but I was too weak. I deserved it. Too fucking weak to beat a muggle. He was drunk, that much was obvious. I don't know if this was the first time it happened, or if he'd done it before. I don't know how often it happened. I don't fucking know anything. For fucks sake! I was cowering on the bed, trying to get away, but I couldn't – I couldn't do a fucking thing. So fucking pathetic. He starting hitting me, again and again, and I was too weak to hit him back. I just took it. I just let him beat me. And then he took my clothes off, all of them. He was on top of me, still hitting me in the face and chest. I could taste blood in my mouth; I was almost choking on it there was so much. And I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He wouldn't stop. It hurt so much, like he was tearing me to shreds. And there was so much blood. So much. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't do a fucking thing to help myself. So fucking weak.

_Sometimes our demons are too hard to face – no matter how strong we are._

I'm not strong, I'm a fucked up mess.

_You've conquered the darkest wizard of the age too many times to count – you're far from weak._

Yeah, but I can't even stop my uncle from – I can't even stand up to a muggle.

_You didn't deserve it. Nobody deserves that._

It was my fault for being such a freak. My fault for being such a burden. My fault for making him so angry. My fault because I'm a _murderer_.

_You're not a murderer, nor are you a freak, nor are you a burden. Your uncle's rage was unjustifiable, you did not cause it. He's a sick, twisted muggle and nothing you ever did could change that._

I was never a good child. Always making freaky things happen, always eating their food and tainting their lives. I should have been better.

_No Harry. All young wizards and witches do accidental magic, and every child deserves food and a family._

Shut the fuck up Snape. You wouldn't have a fucking clue.

_Am I a freak because I did accidental magic when I was a child?_

No. That's diff –

_Don't say it's different. It's exactly the same._

No.

_Yes Harry. And do I deserve to be _raped_ because I ate food and lived in the same house as my family when I was growing up?_

It's different. They were your parents.

_Family is family, no matter how far removed; they should have taken you in and treated you as their own, instead of treating you worse than a house elf._

It wasn't like that.

_Then tell me… what was it like?_

Shut the fuck up.

_1) How old were you in that memory?  
2) What injuries, sustained by your relatives, were you taken to hospital for?  
3) When did you realise that not all children are treated as you were?_

I don't want to answer your fucking questions, _sir_.

_I don't care whether you want to or not. You will._

Please sir, leave me alone.

_I will when you answer the questions._

1) I couldn't really tell. Perhaps fourteen?  
2) Once Dudley tried to push me down the stairs and I grabbed onto him as I fell. Aunt Petunia called the ambulance and both of us were treated for broken bones and concussion. Also once after Uncle Vernon burnt my hand on the stove – it got infected and so had to be treated at the hospital.  
3) Not long after I started school.

_Thank you._

You're not bloody welcome. Just leave me alone.

_Do you not have any questions?_

1) Are you ever going to teach me to become animagus?  
2) Were you ever punished like I was as a kid?  
3) What's for dinner?

_As I suspected._

Answer them.

_1) Yes, if you can stay out of trouble for a few days then I may have time.  
2) My father occasionally hit me in anger, but I was never withheld food and was never beaten nor_ raped_.  
3) I believe the house elves have made roast chicken._

You will still teach me?

_I said I would._

I just thought…

_I suggest that you read the book from Miss Granger first, I will also give you another book to read after dinner._

I've read the one from Hermione; it was pretty good.

_I'm not surprised, I would expect no less from Miss Granger._

Yeah, she's pretty smart.

_Indeed._

Did you just admit to a Gryffindor being smart sir?

_Of course not._

I won't tell her, don't worry.

_I was far from_ worried _Mr. Potter._

Sure.

_Come, it is time to eat._

* * *

Severus Snape spoke as soon as his young charge entered the dining room. The boy looked better, better than before anyway. He was still much too thin, bordering on gaunt, but his eyes held a bit more life in them; they didn't look so haunted, maybe. Or perhaps the potions master was just getting used to the creepy, resigned look in the emerald depths. Either way, it seemed a little less unsettling tonight. His voice was soft, not cold and unforgiving like it was in the classroom.

"I think that you will be able to do it, given that you are proficient in the mind magics."

Harry blinked owlishly for a few moments before realisation struck – the sentence was a bit of a non sequitur after all. He inclined his head slightly, turning this over in his mind, before taking his seat at the dining table. Snape had confidence in him?

"How long did it take you to complete, sir?"

Snape thought for a few seconds, taking a sip of tea before responding. For most, it took at least five months of studying and meditating before they knew what form they would take. From then it may take up to three months, sometimes even six months, before one could reliably assume their animagus form in any situation and control it. For someone already gifted in the area of mind magics, particularly occlumency, it is a lot easier as animagi is largely built around having control of one's own mind and being able to focus and meditate. Severus reiterated this to the Gryffindor before answering the question.

"After four months I knew what my form would be and I was able to transfigure various parts of my body into the form that I would take. I could assume my entire form consistently and control it six months after I began studying animagi. One of the most important parts of transforming into an animal is controlling the mind. Although you take the shape of the animal you are to become, you mind battles to stay human. There have been many cases of incapable wizards and witches transforming before they are ready and losing the battle against their inner animal, this undoubtedly results in the individual being stuck in their animal state until they die."

"How hard is it sir? To fight the animal mind and stay… sane?"

"The first few times you transform it is rather difficult, it helps if there is another animagus of the same species around to assist you in keeping your mind. After a while one becomes used to it and manages to separate the two in their mind and control the animal instincts and impulses."

"Was there someone in their animagus form to help you when you first transformed?"

"Yes, my mentor took the form of a lion and so we were able to communicate a bit through our animagus forms. Most wizard felines can communicate regardless of the exact species, albeit it is limited depending on how far removed the species are. This is the same in most families of animagus animals – although the actual animals cannot communicate in the wild, because our minds are half human we are somehow able to understand one another, at least a little. "

"Is that what your Wolfsbane potion does? Allows werewolves to keep their mind when they transform?"

"In simple terms – yes. The werewolf animal mind is stronger than the human mind, due to it being a magical being, and so usually one cannot fight it. That is why witches and wizards assume non-magical forms; we are better able to control the animal mind. The Wolfsbane potion is more of a mind-altering substance than anything else, it blocks most of the werewolf instincts so that wizard can control the animal and keep their human mentality. Under the influence of the potion, most werewolves are just like any other wizard animagus."

Harry seemed to be considering this as he ate. His eyes were on his plate but Snape could almost see the wheels turning slowly in his head, mulling over this new information. He finished his plate of food before speaking again, this time, on a completely unrelated topic.

"I was wondering, sir, when I remembered that memory, well – I didn't expect it to be so painful… Why did it hurt so damn much? It felt like someone was tearing my mind to shreds."

The potions master seemed to ponder on this for a few long minutes as he finished his roast. He chewed slowly as he came up with a reasonable explanation, it wasn't something he had expected either in all honesty. Finally he looked up at the Gryffindor teenager.

"I am not entirely sure. I can only speculate that perhaps because of your control over the mind magics, as the memory resurfaced, it had to break through your shields. All occlumens compartmentalize their mind, as I am sure you're well aware. Each section has strong defences, or walls, to stop outside invasion. You would have unconsciously fought the apparent intrusion through your barriers and so your mind was essentially battling itself. It would have had to literally tear down your shields in order to make the memory noticed. As most occlumens have complete control over their minds already, it is not often that a repressed memory would be resurfacing – I have certainly never read about it."

"Will it be so painful every time I remember something else?"

Again, the man was silent for several moments.

"I could not say for sure. I know it would be difficult for you, but perhaps if you felt something like that beginning, you could lower your shields until the memory is completely restored?"

Harry looked horrified at this suggestion. His green eyes were wide with barely restrained fear at the mere idea of dropping his shields. He shook his head firmly.

"No. No, I can't drop my shields. No."

"Okay Harry, you don't have to, we can think of another way I'm sure." Severus was quick to placate him.

They boy nodded but still seemed on edge. He downed his coffee before rising from his seat. Severus eyed him, silently telling him to wait a moment. The older wizard then summoned a book from the library. _Battle of the Minds: Animagi Explained_ was passed across the table to the teenager. He smiled his thanks before darting out of the room and upstairs – no doubt to read the book as much as to escape the tension that had thickened the air in the room since the Slytherin's suggestion of lowing his shields.

* * *

**A/N: **I get that if someone were recalling repressed or suppressed memories, they would not remember them like that, but I was writing and this is what happened. So I didn't plan to have Harry regain ANY memories like that, I was going to make it painless and for him and a lot slower, but I think I prefer it this way. He has only regained one memory so far, although it shouldn't be too long until he remembers the rest, considering he now knows what happened.


	24. Schadenfreude

**Disclaimer: **No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters; I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary: **Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore and when he writes in it he receives an unexpected response. His correspondent learns of Harry's less than suitable living conditions and an unlikely bond is formed. Abused!Harry, DrugAddict!Harry.

**Warnings: **Swearing, drug abuse, references to child abuse, references to sexual abuse/rape.

* * *

**A/N:** I can only apologise for neglecting this story for so long. I could spin some excuses – travelling overseas, working, having no access to computer/internet, travelling interstate, etc (all of which are true). But I know that even if I were home with full access to the computer and internet I would not have written. I had no muse and no _need_ to write. I still don't have a lot for you really, but I'm trying. So again, sorry for the HUGE delay, this story has NOT been abandoned.

* * *

**August 24****th**** 10.17pm**

Please sir, can we stay here for another day or two?

_No Harry, if I could delay for any longer, rest assured I would._

Can't the other teachers organize their timetables without you?

_Were I not certain that the headmaster would assign my every class as Gryffindors with Slytherins, then yes, I would allow them to arrange their schedules without my assistance._

Ah yes, he does seem the typeto do something like that. He seems to get his kicks out of burdening you with enemy classes.

_I swear that man takes delight in making my life hell. Schadenfreude._

Schadenfreude?

_Pleasure taken from observing the miseries or misfortunes of others._

Is it German?

_Indeed. There is no direct translation to English per se, but that is the general meaning._

Cool. Can you speak German?

_No. I happen to know a handful of words; I certainly would not class myself as a fluent German speaker._

Can you speak any other languages?

_Perhaps. Why are you so reluctant to come to Hogwarts tomorrow?_

Just because.

_Because why?_

I just don't want to go back, sir.

_If I recall correctly, every year in the past you have begged to stay at Hogwarts for the summer and have not gone home for any other vacation to date, what changed?_

Every other year I've had to spend summer with the Dursleys, this year, I got to spend most of it here.

_There will be a week before there is anyone else other than teachers in the castle, it will be much like it is now._

Yeah, except Dumbledore will be there.

_'Yes', not 'yeah'. I understand your anger and resentment towards the headmaster, but we really have no choice. Goodnight Harry._

* * *

Severus pushed his chair back from the small dining table in his quarters at Hogwarts, eyeing Harry as he did so. He didn't want the boy to get up to any mischief but also would not confine him to their rooms - that would make him no better than the damnable uncle.

"If I do not wish to be late, I must go to the meeting now. You are welcome to leave and wander around the castle, just be sure to return before lunch time. The password for my quarters is now _Erebus_."

"Erebus?"

"It is from Greek Mythology. Erebus was the God of Darkness and Shadow."

"Seems fitting."

"Indeed."

"I will be back for lunch. Try not to cause too much trouble."

"Yes sir."

* * *

The cool, rough touch of the stones under his fingertips felt surreal to one Harry Potter. To be back at Hogwarts; the only home he had known before this summer, was not quite what he had expected. Sure, it was still comforting to be within her protections, to be surrounded by magic, to be away from his aunt and uncle, but there was something missing; Hogwarts was not Snape Manor.

Harry was wandering deep into the castle dungeons. He'd never been this far under the school before – he doubted any current students had either. The hallway was freezing and it smelt of musty dampness. He turned another corner and the corridor he was following dropped lower and seemed to get even colder - if that was at all possible.

A soft creak moaned in the relative silence as a slender hand pushed a heavy oak door open on rusty hinges. The Gryffindor stepped inside the dim room, letting his green eyes drift over décor that had no doubt been left alone for decades. Most of the doors this deep in the castle had been locked but there were a few that weren't and this was one of them.

The room seemed to be a study, though it was huge. A heavy mahogany desk leant against the far wall, covering several meters of the worn stone. Harry wandered over to it and sat in the comfortable looking chair before it. Dust puffed up in spirals around the boy as he sat, but Harry was more interested in the contents of the desk. It was as if someone had been in here yesterday – save for all the dust and cobwebs.

Textbooks older than Harry's parents rested open on the cool surface of the desk, tiny slips of parchment marking important or interesting pages. A quill lay across a long page of writing – notes on the texts – but the inkpot had been dry for decades and the quill was decaying. Green eyes flickered across the first few lines of one of the text books. Although it was written in very old English, Harry realized it was a very advanced transfiguration text. He skimmed his eyes over another; mind control. Turning the page in a third book, Harry read enough lines to know that this one was also transfiguration of a very high level.

It took the youth several minutes before it suddenly struck him – this person was studying mind magic and advanced transfiguration together – they were training to become animagus! How odd that they weren't just reading an animgaus text - perhaps there were none back in the time that this person had studied.

A sharp pain in his head brought Harry's train of thought to a grinding halt. His hands immediately flew up to grasp his temples as burning agony tore through them like fire. _No!_ He hissed under his breath, trying to stop the pain before he was dragged into a fully-fledged memory, _Not again_. Flashes of horrible scenes danced before his closed eyes but Harry refused to watch. He shook his head angrily, painfully, and slammed down his occlumency barriers with such force that he dropped from the chair and onto his knees on the hard stone floor. Okay, so slamming his barriers into place with such force was not the brightest idea he'd had, but at least the pain and the memories were gone.

Standing shakily, the boy tried to banish the images from his mind – he couldn't think about them right now, not here, not alone. He turned from the desk and quickly left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Having no idea what time it was Harry knew he needed to get back to his professor's rooms.

* * *

"Erebus." Harry muttered urgently to the portrait guarding the entrance to the potions professor's quarters. The painting swung easily open and Harry hurried through, his body shaking lightly from the pounding headache that burned his mind. His stomach was twisting and churning, bile rising in his throat every time certain images swam into his conscience, though Harry valiantly fought them back.

"Where the hell have you been? I told you to return before lunch."

Severus' voice was cold and angry, though a tinge of concern shone through his stoic façade. He was in the sitting room that was at the entrance to his quarters, and had evidently been pacing as he was frozen in mid-stride before the fire place.

"Sorry sir, I lost track of time."

Black eyes swept over the youth's slim frame. The boy was looking at his feet, ashamed or nervous Severus couldn't tell.

"Lost track of time? Harry, if you left shortly after I did, then you've been gone for over five hours! Where were you?"

The timid green eyes lifted from the floor to meet the cold gaze of the Slytherin before they returned to the floor. In that brief glance, Severus caught a glimpse of Harry's pain and fear and disgust. He immediately regretted his harsh words – uttered only in concern, not true anger.

"Harry? What happened?"

The boy hesitated for a half second before turning and rushing back towards the portrait, the way he had come. He needed to get out, to get away, it was too much, too soon, he needed space. A spell flew over his shoulder and hit the door before he could reach it. He urgently grabbed at the doorknob, already knowing that Snape had locked it with the spell. In spite of that, Harry tugged desperately at the door before dropping to the floor, his back against the cool wood, head in hands.

Severus stepped towards the broken child. He wanted to help him but didn't know where to begin.

"Harry, please talk to me. What's wrong?"

As soon as he was within a few feet of the cowering teen, Harry began to shudder, scrambling backwards only to be halted by the heavy door behind him. _No, please don't, I'm sorry_. He was, pleading, under his breath again and again.

The older wizard hesitated before taking a step back. Something had happened while the young boy was exploring. Something had caused this sudden flashback. How the hell was he supposed to deal with this? He crouched down to Harry's level, leaving several feet of space between them. And then he began to talk, plenty of meaningless conversation, anything to bring the boy back to the present.

"Harry it's me – Professor Snape. Nobody's going to hurt you…"

After what seemed like hours but was probably more like ten minutes, Harry seemed to be emotionally exhausted. He slumped against the door, his respiration evening out from panicked gasping to relaxed breathing. Severus stepped forwards once again and when the boy did not respond, the Slytherin picked him up in his arms and carried the exceptionally light boy to his bedroom - allowing him to sleep off the episode even though it was only mid afternoon.

* * *

Harry woke up in a cold sweat, biting his lip to stop from crying out in fear. His body shook violently and he glanced around frantically for several moments before his breathing slowed somewhat. He knew he was safe at Hogwarts, but the memory that had tried to resurface earlier that day plagued his subconscious when he was powerless to stop it. He blinked into the late evening night. What was the time? Why was he sleeping in the afternoon? Where was Snape?

As if on cue, the dour potions professor entered the bedroom, hesitating in the doorway as if uncertain of Harry's reaction. The boy blinked in the face of Severus' hesitation – Harry had no recollection of the flashback that occurred just a few hours prior.

"Why am I in bed?"

His voice was full of trepidation and wonder, probably fearing the repercussions for _lazing_ in bed when he shouldn't be.

"It's okay Harry, I took you to bed. You had a flashback a few hours ago."

"Oh shit."

The boy immediately dropped his eyes to his bedcovers and began playing with the dark fabric, refusing to meet Severus' dark stare.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of Harry."

This elicited no response from the boy who was clearly embarrassed about having to be carried to bed after something which he could not control.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Harry stubbornly stared at the black sheets, not lifting his eyes.

"I can't remember."

"No, I mean before that. You were gone for hours."

"Oh. I was just exploring the castle dungeons."

"The dungeons? You could have picked a slightly less dangerous area of the castle; you never know what his hiding in the dungeons of Hogwarts Harry. I'd prefer it if you didn't go any deeper than our rooms without supervision."

Harry scrambled out of his bed and stood to face his professor, his breath coming faster as anger seared through the young Gryffindor.

"I don't need supervision! I was fine. _Sir_."

"You will not explore the dungeons without my company."

"That's not fair!"

"You were gone for over five hours and came back clearly in pain and distressed only to have a flashback within moments of returning."

"In pain? What? – Oh, that."

A flash of realization burnt through the emerald green eyes before the boy cast them down again, he couldn't hold the gaze of his stern professor for more than a few scant seconds.

"What happened to you Harry?"

"I… Uh, my memories…"

"You had another episode?"

"No. I slammed my occlumency shields down and didn't let it come. That fucking hurt too."

"You can't just refuse to acknowledge them in the hope that they'll go away."

"Yes I can. I did."

"You need to come to terms with them."

"I _need_ you to stop telling me what to do, sir."

"Regardless, you are not to explore the dungeons alone."

"If you remember; I fought and killed a fucking basilisk in my second year, I can look after myself."

"If you won't agree I will confine you to our quarters."

"Stop trying to control my life!"

The youth didn't wait for a response. He stood and pushed past the older wizard, fleeing his room. As soon as he was clear of the bedroom, the realization struck Harry that he had nowhere to run to. He had left Snape behind him in his bedroom – he certainly couldn't return there. Instead he bolted for the door out of their quarters, which was thankfully unlocked now, and disappeared out the door and into the dungeons.

* * *

"Fuck." Severus swore under his breath and moved to follow the impulsive teen but the boy was already gone, the slamming of the door punctuated that fact all too loudly. With a growl of anger, perhaps tinged with concern, the dour potions professor gave chase, following the dull thud of footsteps through the maze of corridors that were the Hogwarts dungeons.

Cold stone walls surrounded Severus as he finally drew to a halt halfway down another empty hallway. He had lost track of Harry over twenty minutes ago and had been guessing the youth's direction since then – to no avail. A 'point me' charm would be useless in such a maze as the charm only allowed the caster to know in which direction their subject was located, not how to get there.

Turning to return to his quarters and await the return of Harry, Severus froze. He, who knew the dungeons better than anyone in the castle, had no idea where he was. He slowly, tiredly began walking, hoping against hope that he was following the correct path. How the hell was Harry going to find his way back when Severus himself was lost?

* * *

**A/N:** I think in my haste to finish this story my writing is suffering, sorry for the bad chapter.


	25. The Bloody Baron

**Disclaimer: **No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters; I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary: **Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore and when he writes in it he receives an unexpected response. His correspondent learns of Harry's less than suitable living conditions and an unlikely bond is formed. Abused!Harry, DrugAddict!Harry.

**Warnings: **Swearing, drug abuse, references to child abuse, references to sexual abuse/rape.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, it has been over eight months since I last updated, however I said I would not abandon this story, and I have kept that promise. It is almost finished. Sorry about the long wait, I will not bother to offer my excuses. I wrote this chapter 4 times before I was happy with it, and I'm still not convinced about it. I had a different one written but the computer crashed, this one is nothing like what I had. I may use the one I had for the next chapter if I can get the other computer working. This doesn't have a lot of talking, that will come next time. Sorry again for the massive delay.

Abuse of any kind is a very serious issue and should never be ignored, condoned or otherwise. By law, it must be reported to the appropriate authorities. Nobody deserves to be abused.

* * *

Harry ran. He didn't know to where he was headed, and he didn't care. It seemed that in the short time that they had been back at Hogwarts, nothing had gone right. He wanted to be back in the relative safety of Snape Manor, away from the memories, and the past. He allowed the dungeons to lead him away from these things and into the comfort of the silence, the cold, the darkness, the solace. Things he'd never really appreciated before, but now held a certain anonymity that he'd come to welcome. In the depths of the dungeons, he could be alone, away from the angry professor that seemed always able to get under his skin, and away from the hauntings of his past.

When his lungs were bursting and his legs shook with exertion, Harry slowed to stop. The adrenaline that had fuelled the desperate sprint dissipated and he suddenly felt drained. Bile rose in his throat and his head spun. Glancing around at the cold stone walls, the Gryffindor knew immediately that he was lost. He leant against a wall and slid down to the icy floor; exhausted. His chest heaved and his clothes were damp with sweat, yet he felt better. He felt freer, if a little concerned as to how he was going to find his way home.

If there were anyone around, they would have heard the angry footsteps of a frustrated and perhaps slightly worried potions professor as he stalked down yet another dead-end corridor. He held back a growl of annoyance and spun elegantly on his heel, retracing his steps to find different route back to his rooms. He'd been wandering around for almost half an hour now and was almost at his wits end. His current course curved left before forking again. Severus immediately took the left corridor and after half a dozen twists and turns began to feel a little surer about his surroundings. The hall was on a slight incline and the air seemed less frigid, not so deep underground perhaps? Passing a familiar portrait on his right, the man knew he would be back at his rooms within a few minutes. His young Gryffindor charge on the other hand...

* * *

The green-eyed wizard was freezing. His damp clothes chilled him to the bone as the glacial air touched his sweaty skin. The cold seeped through the stones he leant against, causing goose bumps to rise all over his thin arms as he began to shiver. Harry stood now, he needed to keep moving despite how drained he felt, he would freeze to death otherwise. He knew he was a long way from Snape's quarters. He was deep in the dungeons, deeper than he'd ever been before. And though he would never admit it, Harry was a little scared. The older wizard had commented on the dangers of the dungeons and the Gryffindor knew that Snape's warnings were not to be taken lightly.

After glancing both ways down the empty corridor, Harry began to walk back the way he was sure he had come. He walked briskly despite how tired he was. He wasn't sure if it was the cold that was making him sleepy or if he truly was exhausted. The dungeons were not well-lit, with lamps casting just enough light for one to see where he was placing his feet and no further. Eerie shadows licking at every corner, every enclave. The halls twisted and turned and after what felt like hours of walking, though it could have been just a handful of minutes, Harry was ready to panic. He was still far too deep underground and every corridor looked identical to the last. Occasionally a door decorated one of the endless stone walls, yet these too were indistinguishable from one another and did not help at all in assisting with one's direction. Harry was convinced he was going around in circles.

The boy quickened his stride, almost breaking into a run as fear bubbled up inside of him. His breath was so cold it appeared in puffs in front of him; it must be nightfall. What had happened to Snape? Harry didn't have time to ponder that one; he was more concerned about finding his way back before the dungeon inhabitants came alive with the darkness. A single charmed window showed a starless night time scene, yet the wayward boy knew they were too far under the castle for the image to be real. The air was always getting cooler, though Harry was too disorientated to know whether this was due to him going in the wrong direction, or the heat of the day leaving the stones as night fell. Rounding the next corner, the wizard's breath caught in his throat. He stopped so quickly he almost fell before spinning around to find another course.

* * *

Severus paced rapidly in front of the hearth, just about lighting the carpet on fire with his hasty stride. He paused for a second to run one hand through his lank hair before resuming his agitated gait. It had been almost two hours since he had returned to the dungeons and the younger wizard was yet to make an appearance. He had gone out into the dungeons as deep as he dared for fear of getting lost again yet had seen neither sight nor sound of the boy. Night was falling and the temperature was drapping rapidly; the dungeons were no place for a young wizard to be in the dead of the night. The Slytherin summoned a heavy cloak from his wardrobe before exiting through the portrait once again in search of the young Gryffindor.

When his potions professor had first suggested that the dungeons were dangerous, Harry had shrugged it off, but now he knew that the man was entirely correct. Fear pulsed through his veins as Harry fled, choosing a different path this time yet keeping an ear out for that _thing_ that he had almost ran into. He didn't know what it was, and he had no intention of hanging around to find out. After racing down several more corridors, Harry slowed to a brisk walk to listen for a pursuer. He wasn't _scared; _he just took slight issue with being followed by an overgrown bird of prey. To him, it looked like a hawk, but it happened to be around six times the size of a normal one. He hadn't hung around to get a decent look at it, but it was surely a good foot or two taller than Harry himself and though it probably couldn't spread its massive wings in the narrow hall, it still looked like it could do some serious damage with those talons.

After walking for a few minutes to catch his breath, the not so brave Gryffindor was feeling a little better. Sure, he was still lost and freezing and exhausted, but at least he hadn't come across a basilisk, or an acromantula. Things weren't exactly great, but it could have been worse, right?

Speaking of worse... as he rounded the next corner Harry heard a soft, mocking voice echoing in the shadows near the stone roof of his corridor. He immediately stopped dead, dread filling his bones. What the _fuck_ could he come across down here that could speak English? The voice seemed to be taunting him.

"Harry Potter, all alone in the dungeons, whatever would the Slytherins say?"

The voice was quiet, yet just loud enough to Harry to make out the words.

"Doesn't the boy know that this is a dangerous place to be at night?"

A loud crashing sound followed this sentence and the Gryffindor began to step backwards away from the voice. A sudden wave of coldness swept over the boy making him shudder, and this time to the voice was closer, just to his left.

"Careful now, you should look where you're going."

Harry jumped before backing himself away from the voice, against the cold wall on the other side of the corridor. His head snapped to the left, green eyes searching out the source of the voice, to no avail.

Another surge of cold passed through the boy and before he could react, a wave of water crashed over him, soaking him to the bone. Mocking, high-pitched laughter followed before a deeper, darker voice rang out, coming from behind Harry now.

"Get out of here Peeves! This part of the castle belongs to me."

At this Harry spun around, and a wave of relief rushed over him. It was just Peeves the Poltergeist, being a menace, as usual. The voice of the Bloody Baron was easily recognisable once he realised he was dealing with the ghosts of Hogwarts and Harry turned towards the sound, trying to seek out the pale figure with his eyes.

The ghost came into view and slowly approached Harry.

"Alone in the dungeons, at night time, before school has even begun. Do you wish to _die_, Mr Potter?"

The Baron's voice was low, silky, and most akin to that of the potion's professor. Was it a Slytherin thing? Harry had hoped the ghost would help him, but now he was not so sure.

"Are you aware of the creatures that lurk beneath the school and come alive as the light fades? Peeves should be the least of your worries."

The Bloody Baron floated closer and Harry nodded hurriedly, backing away as he did so.

"So what would the headmaster's Golden Boy be doing down here if not risking his life, again?"

The Baron sounded so much like Snape, that Harry almost laughed out loud. The irony of the situation struck him and Harry stopped backing up; he knew better than to be afraid of a ghost! Still, the Baron was likely his only way out of the cold darkness, so Harry tried to be courteous.

"Sorry for disturbing you sir, but I am lost. I did not mean to cause any trouble with Peeves, sir."

Harry dipped his head slightly in respect to the bloodied old ghost, feeling a little doubtful of the proper way to address a ghost. He began to shiver again, this time due to the cold that torn through his wet clothing.

"I'm staying with Professor Snape, Mr Baron, and he will be most anxious for me to return."

Harry hoped against hope that mentioning the Professor's name would encourage the Baron to help him. The young wizard knew that the heads of house had much control over their house ghosts afterall.

"Professor Snape you say? Very well, follow me."

The ghost moved quickly and silently, so much so that Harry had to rush to keep up, afraid of letting the pale figure out of his sight for even a moment as he knew he would not be given a second chance.

Corridors flashed by and it seemed like hours before Harry began to feel the temperature rising, a sure sign that they were not so deep under the castle. The Gryffindor was nearing exhaustion, fighting to keep his emerald eyes open, when the welcome frame of the potion's professor darkened the hallway. Harry felt relief rush over him before his vision began to tunnel. The stress of the day took its toll on the still too-thin teenager as he succumbed to the welcome darkness of unconsciousness.


	26. It's my life

**Disclaimer: **No, I don't own Harry Potter, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters; I'm just expanding on what she provides.

**Summary: **Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore and when he writes in it he receives an unexpected response. His correspondent learns of Harry's less than suitable living conditions and an unlikely bond is formed. Abused!Harry, DrugAddict!Harry.

**Warnings: **Swearing, drug abuse, references to child abuse, references to sexual abuse/rape.

* * *

Despite lunging forwards as soon as he saw Harry's steps falter, Severus could do nothing to catch the boy as he collapsed onto the floor. The older wizard winced as he heard the familiar crack of bone hitting the solid stone floor. He was at the Gryffindor's side within a few scant seconds and immediately lifted the raven head, drawing his hand away to find his fingers sticky with blood. Upon closer inspection, the blood was coming from a superficial wound, but the boy was deathly cold. Knowing Harry's luck, he'd probably be suffering from hypothermia, pneumonia and Merlin knows what else – far be it for the child to ever catch a break.

Severus bundled the unconscious wizard into his arms and carried him the rest of the way to his dungeons. Despite the fact that Harry barely weighed half of what he should, the Slytherin was panting before they reached his quarters and felt a wave of relief as he walked through the portrait and dumped his load on the sofa.

With a quick flick of his wand and a whispered spell, the head wound was healed and the blood gone and after summoning a plethora of healing potions, Severus made to wake Harry with a whispered r_ennervate_. The emerald eyes fluttered open for half a second before shutting again. The teen let out a low groan before rolling over, away from Severus, and curling into a ball as much as the sofa would allow.

"Harry, I need to give you some potions."

Severus' voice was gentle yet tinged with concern and more than a little frustration.

A single muffled word was the only intelligible response. "Sleep."

The Slytherin rolled his eyes.

"You can sleep later, right now you need to take some potions so you don't get sick."

"Potions later, sleep now."

The older wizard had little patience at the best of times, and now was certainly not the best of times. His voice was still low yet the tone clearly expressed his discontent at Harry's attitude.

"You will take these potions Mr. Potter or I will force them down your throat."

It was the Gryffindor's turn to roll his eyes this time. He slowly turned over to face the man, fatigue evident in every line of his body, before pushing himself into a sitting position. Severus took the opportunity to pass the boy a headache reliever and an immune booster (to hopefully fight any trace of pneumonia), telling him what each vial held before the teen would drink it.

"How's your head? Are you in any pain?"

"I'm fine sir, I'm just tired."

By the time the older wizard had stood and summoned a blanket, the Gryffindor was already asleep, curled into his customary fetal position despite the limitations of the couch. Severus covered the child before returning to his own quarters. He would not usually allow the boy to sleep anywhere but in his bed, but did not have the energy himself to shift him.

* * *

Emerald eyes blinked blearily into the morning light, shutting again for a few second before opening once more. Severus watched with amusement, tea in hand. It was well after sunrise and the older wizard had been observing for any signs of brain trauma – there were none so far – while waiting for the boy to awaken.

The green eyes blinked again before focusing on the tall form of the potions master. Harry seemed to shrink back into the couch for half a second before checking his own instincts. He did **not** need to cower away from his professor. Memories of the previous night began to fill his mind and suddenly, Harry felt ashamed of his actions – running like a child.

"I'm sorry sir, I shouldn't have run away like I did."

Now it was Severus' turn to blink. He had not expected that.

"You cannot run away from your problems forever Harry."

The green eyes turned angry. Anger directed at the potions master for bringing up something which he _clearly_ did not want to discuss. He was silent for several seconds before responding quietly, his rage barely in check.

"I don't have _problems_."

"Yes, you do. Voldemort is a problem. Your _abusive _relatives are a problem. Your nightmares are a problem. Need I go on?"

"With respect, sir, 'running away' has worked well for me for the past sixteen years. I don't need to talk to you. I don't need to talk to anyone. Don't you understand? I'm fine. I can deal with it. It's my life, my _problems_."

"I know you've always dealt with things alone in the past, but you can ask for help sometimes."

"I don't need your help, Snape. Just leave me the fuck alone already."

"You know I can not do that. And I advise you to hold your tongue; your foul mouth will lead you to danger one day."

This was met with stony silence. Severus admirably held his calm in the face of Harry's rage and realized that they were not going to make any progress, not tonight.

"It's breakfast time and you are still far too thin."

* * *

**August 25th 12.22pm**

I'm sorry I blew up at you like I did sir. I'm just sick of everyone trying to help me.

_You should be sleeping Harry. I told you go to back to bed until dinner. You need to rest._

I can't sleep. I never fucking can.

_Did you have a nightmare?_

NO. Fuck. Can't you just let me write without trying to "help me sort out my problems"? I just couldn't sleep.

_Okay.  
1) Are you looking forward to seeing your friends again next week?  
2) Have you tried meditating on your animagus form yet?  
3) Will you help me with a potion tomorrow?_

You could have just shut the hell up.

_You could have gone back to bed._

Fine.  
1) Yes and no. I do like their company. But… I don't know what to tell them. I've changed.  
2) Sort of. I gave it a go but I'm having trouble understanding it a bit. The books are a bit vague.  
3) Can I think about this? Last time didn't turn out very well…

_Yes, you can think about it. And I have another book that can explain the early stages of meditation for you a bit more clearly. Or we can discuss it tomorrow if you would prefer._

That would be great, thanks sir.

_I know you probably think I'm not helping much with your animagus study, but a lot of the early learning is about meditation and mind control which you need to learn for yourself. I will not be able to help much until you actually begin trying to assume your form._

Okay, thanks sir.

* * *

Lunch was a quiet affair. Severus knew that Harry's short temper was largely due to his apprehension at seeing his friends again and returning to classes – but that did not mean he was happy with it. He watched intently as the boy picked at his food, despite how far he'd come Harry still had little appetite. The Gryffindor was still horribly thin and probably would be for many months to come. His emerald eyes lifted to meet Severus' dark gaze and the younger wizard let a gentle sigh escape him. He turned back to his food, knowing that the potions professor was disappointed by the meager amount that he ate.

"When you are quite done, shall we adjourn to the sitting room to discuss animagi meditation? Or did you have something else in mind?"

Harry lifted his eyes again to glance through his fringe at the man before flashing him a smile.

"No, that sounds great sir."

* * *

"I still don't get it sir. You said meditation is important because it will help me find out what animal I am going to be, but don't I need to know what animal I am so I can focus on that?"

"No Harry, you will find out during the course of your meditation what form you will assume."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to be doing if I'm not focusing on my form?"

Severus paused here. He knew it was a difficult concept for an impatient young wizard like Harry to understand – that is one of the reasons that animagi is omitted from the usual transfiguration course at Hogwarts – but he was quite confident that the Gryffindor _could _do it.

He sighed slightly and flickered his wand; a book flew from a nearby shelf into his hand. The man placed it on the small coffee table between them, motioning for Harry to pick it up.

"This book may be of some assistance – though most texts on meditation are quite vague."

He tried another way of explaining it.

"Upon clearing your mind for occlumency, what do you use to hide your memories?"

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"Do you know what I use?"

"I think you hide yours in the darkness, sir?"

"Correct, and the headmaster appears to use flames, or fire."

"What does it matter though?"

"Everyone is different. I choose darkness, because that's where I am most comfortable. How a wizard meditates is also different depending on the individual."

"So how did you meditate for animagi, if you don't mind me asking sir?"

"No Harry. I cannot tell you. It won't help you in any way – like occlumency; it is something that you need to find out on your own."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"So you can't tell me how to do it, I'm just expected to _know_. Well that's just _oh so_ helpful, sir. "

"I'm not doing this to frustrate you – "

"Oh really? That's a shame; because if you are it's working really fucking well."

"Language, Mr. Potter."

"Fuck off."

"Do you think swearing is impressive? Do you think it makes you sound tough? Do you think it makes you stronger?"

"Shut up."

"All swearing does, Mr. Potter, is show that you have a pitifully limited vocabulary."

"You know what, _sir_? I don't care."

"What a surprise!" Sarcasm rolled easily off Severus' tongue as he purposefully riled the boy, trying to elicit some sort of response other than 'fuck off' or the ever more charming 'leave me the fuck alone'.

"Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?" Harry was standing now, his green eyes blazing in anger.

"Sit down Mr. Potter and show some respect."

Harry remained standing, his jaw clenched in anger.

"Sit. Down."

"I heard you the first time."

"I can quite easily make you sit down child, so I advise that you kindly and willfully obey."

Harry sat. Not because he wanted to, but because he wouldn't put it past the stoic man to actually follow through with the threat and magically _force_ him to sit down.

"Now, take this book and read the first three chapters, they should help you somewhat. If you are still having trouble, come to me with specific questions and I may be able to help you."

He leant forward in his chair and pushed the heavy text across closer to the Gryffindor. Harry slowly, cautiously, picked up the book, unsure of his footing right now. Was Snape mad at him?

* * *

**August 25th 3:45pm**

Are you there?

_I am_.

This may seem like a dumb question, but should I have my eyes closed? I know for occlumency your eyes should be open because that's how you face people when they are trying to break into your mind. But I thought perhaps for this my eyes should be closed?

_You are correct. You should find a comfortable position, close your eyes and try to relax._

Easier said than done sir.

_You should be relaxed here Harry, nothing will harm you._

I know. It's just hard sometimes.

_It will get easier._

Will it?

* * *

A dark green potion filled the large copper cauldron in front of the dour potions master. Severus gently stirred the aromatic potion as it simmered quietly over the heat. He loved how relaxed potion making made him feel. It was in stark contrast to the nervous boy a few feet away who looked about three seconds away from fleeing.

Harry had agreed to join his professor in the lab this afternoon but more because of a desire to fight his demons and prove he _could_ do it, rather than any desire to get back down there. Now he was in the room with the older wizard, he was beginning to regret his decision. He was so jumpy. Afraid of stuffing up the potion, of angering the Slytherin, of losing his temper, of simply being down in the same place that had caused such a rift in their relationship before. Thankfully Snape was being surprisingly quite, though Harry knew he was watching like a hawk.

Regardless of biting his tongue and allowing the Gryffindor to work in relative peace, the older wizard kept one eye on the teenager at all times – said boy was working very slowly and accurately so far. Though his ingredients were not prepared particularly well, they were passable and if he followed the steps correctly, the potion would turn out okay. Despite the care that Harry was exhibiting, Severus could see the slight shaking of his hands as he worked; a sure sign of fear from the boy.

He'd done something wrong. Harry glanced quickly between the potions text and his cauldron, trying to work it out. The description was 'burnt orange' – Harry's was definitely crimson. Severus watched surreptitiously. He'd seen the boy stuff up but had not corrected him – the mistake was not volatile and was simple enough to fix at the end. His black eyes followed the younger wizard's movements as he scanned the last few steps in the text and tried to remember where he'd gone wrong.

The Gryffindor looked up just as Severus averted his gaze to focus on his own potion – perhaps the kid could work this one out on his own. He watched out of the corner of his vision, as Harry walked back to the supply cupboard and retrieved a small vial. By the time he realized what was being added, he was almost too late.

"Don't!" He commanded quickly, stepping towards the boy whose hand hovered over the potion to add an ingredient that could potentially cause a dangerous reaction.

Harry jumped backwards at the sharp command, the ground dragon scales falling from his fingertips.


End file.
